Just A Wee Bit
by sugarplumdreams
Summary: A collection of stand-alone one-shots as prompted by my followers on Tumblr as well as little drabble-y things that pop into my head. Mostly fluff, a little angst, and the occasional smut/smuff (rated at the beginning of the fic).
1. Follow My Lead

**Prompt** by Anonymous user on Tumblr:

_**Killian teaches Emma how to Waltz**_

* * *

**Follow My Lead**

He chuckles, the corners of his mouth tipping up as he weaves in and out of couples to lead her out onto the dance floor. "Oh, come now darling, what's the harm in a little dancing?"

"I don't dance."

"Well, lucky for you…" He stops in the middle of the floor then catches her off guard when he lifts the hand he's holding and somehow gets her to turn before swooping in and wrapping an arm around her waist. "I do."

She gasps when their bodies bump and she feels his hand tracing up her back to cup her shoulder blade. The hand he was just holding falls — almost magically — to rest on his arm. Her eyes shoot up to his in surprise and he smiles again. He looks so boyishly charming she can't help but do the same. She gives in, just a little, and sighs inside. _Smooth bastard._

"Don't say I didn't warn you when I start stepping all over your feet," she tells him.

He pulls her just a fraction closer and she can feel her heart rate pick up when their gazes meet and hold. He carefully guides the inside of his hook to fit the palm of her other hand so that she can grasp it. His eyes flicker briefly to her lips and her chest tightens.

"Mmm, then it's a good thing I wore my steel-toed boots," he murmurs.

"Last chance to back out."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

The breath backs up in her lungs and the moment feels so intimate she has to look away just to keep from feeling like she's drowning in him. "Now what?"

"Now," he tells her, tilting his head to capture her gaze once more and giving her an encouraging smile. "You keep your eyes on me and you follow my lead."

Her brow furrows and she gives him a skeptical look. "That's it? Just like that?"

"Just like that…ready?"

"No."

He laughs and she realizes she quite likes the sound.

"Alright, quick lesson: back, side-together, forward, side-together, starting with your right foot-"

"Wait!" Her mind freezes then panics. "_What?"_

"Here we go-"

"No, wait! I can't- I'm not ready-"

But he's already moving and she's frantically trying to recite his instructions in her mind while moving her feet at the same time. _Back, forward, side…side, back, together-forward- no, wait- shit!_ He hums to keep time for her, a steady _one, two, three…four, five, six _rhythm and oddly, it helps.

"Hey, eyes up," he says firmly after a moment. "Right at me, love."

She does as she's told but her expression is pained.

"There we go," he grins. "Hi."

"This is a disaster waiting to happen."

"I don't know, I think we're doing quite superbly."

Her eyes narrow at the look on his face and then it suddenly hits her how smoothly they're moving together. She glances around them and the room is actually spinning by as he dances with her. She looks at him in utter disbelief before a laugh escapes her mouth. She hates to admit it, but _man_ is he good.

"Relax, Swan…I've got you." His smile is just a little smug.

"Oh, is that right?" She rolls her eyes at him but there's no heat behind the gesture.

He pulls her closer still, resting his forehead against hers as he chuckles softly. "You're right, perhaps it's the other way around."

_Fin_


	2. From Memory

**Prompt** by Anonymous:

_**Killian reads poetry to Emma after..ahem... certain activities in the Captain's Cabin.**_

* * *

**From Memory**

"Have you read all of the books in here?" she wonders, fingers playing with his hair as he nuzzles his cheek against her shoulder.

It was late into the night (or early into the morning, depending on how you looked at it) and they'd been laying quietly side-by-side in his quarters for a long time, sated and drowsy after hours and hours of feasting on each other. She aches in some places, her muscles tired and sore, and she feels so used but the sensation is deliciously pleasant and she doesn't mind it one bit. She knows she'll bear his marks come morning and smiles widely at the thought — she'll wear them proudly.

His arm slides against her waist and curves around her back to pull her closer. She needs only a little encouragement, throwing her leg over his bare hip and running her foot up his calf as she snuggles against him. She can feel his fingertips dancing over skin, right along her spine, and it makes her sigh contentedly.

"Multiple times," he murmurs, and his lips are there on the underside of her jaw, the scruff on his face scraping lightly and tickling as he nibbles.

She tangles her hand deeper into his hair and tugs lightly, turning her face slightly to nudge his nose with hers. "What are they about?"

"Everything," he says quietly.

It doesn't take too long for his mouth to find hers again and she can't help but smile as they linger over the kiss. Warmth pools in her belly — light and golden — and she has the fleeting thought that she could very well be this way with him for the rest of her life and be okay with it.

"What classifies as 'everything?'"

"Fictitious tales, star maps, poetry…anything you can think of. My brother had eclectic tastes."

She kisses him once more at the mention of his brother, a small gesture meant to soothe him.

"Thank you," he whispers, lips moving over her cheek.

"Poetry, huh?" She wants to change the subject, for his sake. "Will you read some to me?"

"You want me to read you poetry?"

She rolls atop him then, settling over him as she rests her hands on his chest and pillows her chin on them while she looks at him with a grin. "Yeah, what's wrong with that?"

His hook lays over her lower back, the metal cool against her warm flesh, while his other hand moves to her hair and begins to comb through it, letting the tresses slide between his fingers. "I didn't realize you had such a soft side," he smirks lazily.

"I don't," she says with a scrunch of her nose. "I just like to hear you talk…I'm a sucker for accents."

He chuckles but doesn't make to move, eyes moving across her face as if memorizing every feature, and when their gazes meet, her heart squeezes sweetly in her chest. She looks at him, this handsome man who loves so deeply, and she knows she is the luckiest woman on earth.

"'_Green eyes to match her scales on tail, this golden haired mermaid of the sea._'"

Emma smiles then reaches out to run her finger over the scar on his cheek. Adorable idiot. Of course he would recite from memory.

"'_Through dark of night I hear her wail, I miss her so, and she misses me._'"

She presses a kiss to his heart, completely charmed.

"'_On a coral reef atop the blue ocean, her cries shatter the glassy night, cries filled with such raw emotion, as I her lover over wave takes flight._'"

He taps his finger affectionately to the tip of her nose then grins when she tries to nip at him.

"'_A wayward sailor all my life I'll be, seeking my lovely siren out at sea._'"

The bit of silence that endures after is intimately sweet and comfortable, and Emma sighs again at how easy everything seems to be with him. "Okay, is that an actual poem or did you just pull that out of your ass?"

He laughs and his arm tightens around her. "That depends on how impressed you were."

"What if I say 'hardly?'" Her expression is amused.

"Then yes, it's an actual poem."

"And if I say, 'incredibly impressed?'"

"Then I take full responsibility."

"You're ridiculous, pirate."

"Ah," he says, another smile tugging up the corners of his mouth as he cups her cheek in his hand. "But I'm _your_ pirate."

She closes her eyes for a moment when she feels his thumb stroke over the little dent in her chin. "Yeah, that you are."

Fin


	3. Apples to Apples, Heart to Heart

**Prompt** by captain-swan-in-the-tardis: _**A torture fic for either Emma or Killian.** _

Plus additionally inspired by onceuponaflameofhope: **I know Emma is the only one who hasn't gone through a sleeping curse and maybe she eventually will but I mean… ****"_I take that apple, and she lives? That's the deal you want to make?" "With all my heart"_ *Killian bites the apple* **

**A/N:** Written during the OUAT 2013 Winter Hiatus. Sorry in advance.

* * *

**Apples to Apples, Heart to Heart**

The splash of water on his face stings his open wounds and jolts him awake. He's exhausted, groggy, and his vision blurs as he fights his way into consciousness. He's shackled to chains by his wrists, arms above his head while he hangs about a foot off the ground. His ankles are restrained as well and his battered body aches — a constant hum of pain. He has the fleeting thought that his shoulders won't be able to hold himself up much longer before dislocating completely, though at the rate they're going, he's not entirely sure it wouldn't be an unwelcome development.

"Ohhh, well would you look at that," a voice murmurs. "Our dear Captain returns to the world of the living."

He hears the rustle of skirts, sees a blur of green and red in front of him when he glances up.

"Welcome back, darling," she purrs.

"_Fuck you_," he mutters.

She's quick, lashing out to back-hand him in retribution for his words. He grunts as his head whips to the side then grimaces in pain when she roughly grasps his cheeks between her fingers and forces his face back to hers. She's close, he can feel her breath on his lips and it takes every ounce of restraint he has not to spit in her face.

"That mouth of yours will get you into trouble," she hisses but then her tone changes and becomes almost affectionate. "Which would be a shame because it's such a pretty mouth too."

"Go to hell," he retorts, ignoring her warning.

Her lips close over his in a harsh, punishing kiss and bile rises up in his throat as he jerks his head and attempts to break free of her grasp. She bites down, _hard,_ on his lip in retaliation and he grits his teeth at the taste of blood. His head is shoved back when she finally let's go, cackling at him wickedly.

"You've gone soft, Hook." She tells him and her voice is disappointed. "Such an undeserving reputation for a weak, _weak_ man."

He's barely listening to her, instead focusing on the door she's left slightly ajar. _Freedom_. So close and yet so far.

"You just had to go and fall in love, didn't you? And with the _Savior_, no less!" She laughs again.

The sound of Emma's moniker has his head snapping up and his eyes narrowing. "Don't you dare speak of her," he warns quietly.

Her brow quirks at him in amusement and she inches forward once more, leaning close as if sharing a secret with him, and her soft smile matches her soft voice. "By the time I'm through with her, she won't be your Savior anymore."

Rage engulfs him, pumps adrenaline through him and renews his resolve as he suddenly bucks against his restraints. "_You lay one fucking finger on her and I swear to the Gods there will be no place for you in all the realms to hide from me!_"

His outburst delights her, he can tell by the gleam in her eyes and _oh_ what he wouldn't give for his hook right in this moment.

"_Ohhh_…my dear, darling boy." She waves her hand and the door abruptly shuts close, locking itself into place. "I was so hoping you'd say that."

His breathing is ragged as he fights for control, but he says nothing to her.

"I'm here to make you a deal-"

"I don't make deals with wretched creatures-"

"I find that offensive," she pouts like a sulky child. "I would have preferred the term '_wicked_.'"

"I'll compromise," he replies and gives her a mocking smile. "'_Foul_,' is better suited for you anyway."

She smirks then sighs heavily. "It really is such a shame that you've abandoned your dark side…I do believe we would have had such…_fun_."

"Only in your dreams, _darling_," he sneers.

Her smile widens. "Are you sure you don't want to hear what I'm offering?"

He remains silent and she tsks at him, walking her fingers up his chest so that she can grab the chain around his neck. "Oh," she grins excitedly. "I'll tell you anyway…"

She tightens her hold on the silver, yanking him towards her, but he puts up a fight, straining against her hold even though it physically pains him.

"I want your _life_, pirate, in exchange for hers."

She flips her hand over and a bright green plume of smoke materializes on her palm. When it fades, a ruby red apple appears in its wake. Killian freezes at that, his eyes narrowing in confusion.

"Mmm," she hums in approval. "_Now_ I've got your attention." She holds the apple up to the light, turning her hand to inspect it. "_Isn't it beautiful?_"

"A poisoned apple," he says, his voice hoarse. _A sleeping curse. _He's heard enough of the tale of Snow White and Prince Charming to know of such things.

"You see," she starts. "Death would be too easy for the Savior, and after _all_ the aggravation I've gone through with her, it would be far too quick and painless and _unsatisfying_…and where would the fun be in that? I want her broken. I _need_ her broken. I need her heart shattered into a million pieces so that every ounce of good and light in her is _destroyed_." She lowers the apple so it sits directly in his line of vision. "That's where you come in-"

"You're a fool if you think you can darken Emma's heart," he interrupts. He can feel the panic and fear bubbling in the bottom of his stomach. _No. No, no, no. No!_

"_You're the fool_ if you think Emma's heart is her own," she replies with a wry laugh, releasing him from her grasp. "After all, _you're_ where she keeps it." She waves the fruit in his face once more and both of her eyebrows raise in question. "Apple?"

The truth of the witch's words rings in his ears, makes his heart squeeze painfully in his chest. Emma may not have said as much to him but in the deepest part of him, he knows. He knew long before he'd been taken…he knew in every glance and every touch and every glorious laugh and stolen kiss that he'd won her heart as he promised he would.

When he remains silent she shrugs nonchalantly. "Well, I suppose death is better than nothing."

She begins to walk away and he snaps then, suddenly struggling against the chains and raging at her with everything inside of him. Emma's death was not an option, a world without her was inconceivable…but the alternative? How was that any better?

She waits him out, merely stands by and watches him curse and rub his wrists bloody. When his tantrum is done, when his throat is raw from screaming and his body sags in defeat, she steps towards him again, waving a hand to release him from his shackles. He falls to his knees and hands, and she kneels next to him, running a hand sympathetically through his hair.

"I take that apple, and she lives?" he asks, unable to look at her. His voice is broken, _he_ is broken, but a world without her, even if it's a world without _him_, is inconceivable. "That's the deal you want to make?"

"_With all my heart,_" she sneers with smile and holds out the fruit for him to take.

* * *

Emma wakes with a start, sitting up as she gasps for breath and both of her hands clutch at the spot right underneath her breastbone. Her chest is burning, her heart squeezing so tight it leaves her dizzy with little white spots dancing behind her eyes.

"_No!_" she screams.

Charming, standing guard outside her room, rushes through the door and is at her side in an instant, hands soothing down her arms. "Emma! Sweetheart, what is it? What's wrong?"

Her eyes are wide on his as fear's icy fingers creep up her spine. "Dad," she says breathlessly as tears begin to pool in her eyes. _No. No, no, no._ _No!_

"Emma-"

"It's Killian," she cries and frantically jumps out of bed. "He's in trouble, he-"

She gasps again, the pain searing in her torso as she falls to her knees. _Oh God. Oh God, oh God, oh God._ "No," she weeps desperately, her voice soft and disbelieving. "No, no, no, no!"

A cry tears itself from her throat as another wave of pain and nausea overtakes her. She's never felt so helpless in her life. One of her arms grips around her middle as she tries to hold herself together and the fingers of her free hand dig into her father's arm.

"What's happening?" she pleads, even though she knows — of course she knows, she _loves_ him and- "_Killian!_"

Her voice is a shriek, a combination of grief and emotionally charged magic that rumbles through the castle at the next sharp stab in her chest. Then abruptly everything goes eerily still inside of her, like a light going out, and that hurts far worse. Charming's arms come around her, comfortingly, but they're not the ones she wants. She sobs uncontrollably, her body trembling against his as she continues to shake her head in denial.

_No, no, no, no._

She's going to find him. She vows it. She's going to murder that bitch of a witch and bring him home.

_Fin_


	4. Precious Things

**A/N:** Based off the filming spoilers with Hook and Henry on the beach, as well as a couple shipmates' theories. Enjoy!

* * *

**Precious Things**

"_Are you bloody off your rocker?_"

He doesn't shout — even though she knows he wants to — but his voice is still an angry hiss. She doesn't respond, keeps her expression neutral even when her chest tightens at the sight of him pacing restlessly in front of her.

"You're mad," he continues, pointing his hook at her. "You're all mad! This is the worst possible idea! We can't split up, not now-"

"This is the only option," she interjects calmly.

"Oh, bollocks!"

Her eyes close and she reaches up to pinch the bridge of her nose as the frustration she's feeling cracks her composure. "Hook-"

"_No._"

"You are being ridiculously stubborn right now!" She faces off with him, her hands dropping to her waist and tries to focus on her simmering temper instead of the fear and worry that threatens to consume her.

"It takes one to know one!" He stops wearing a path in the floor to stand toe-to-toe with her.

Their eyes hold intensely — blue on green — and suddenly her heart softens at the emotions she sees reflected in his. He's frightened, as frightened as she is, and she wants nothing more than to curl into him and never let go, though she knows if she touches him, she'll lose it, so she holds it in and forces back the urge to soothe and be soothed. She sighs and scrubs her hands tiredly over her face before meeting his gaze once more.

"You'd do anything for me," she says softly, matter-of-factly. The silence that follows remains for several moments and she can feel her stomach clench. "Please," she whispers on a plea. "Do this one thing for me — protect my son."

He sighs too, grumbles as he hooks her chin in his index finger and strokes over the dent there with his thumb. "You're unfair, you know…pleading with those big, green eyes."

The corners of her mouth tip up faintly and inside, the struggle to remain composed rages on. Her hands begin to tremble so she curls them into fists and keeps them tight at her sides. When he inches forward though, she stays in place, keeping her eyes on his.

"There's no other way," she tells him. "We won't get another chance like this again-"

"And yet you wish to keep me from the battle, _from your side_." His voice is broken, full of contempt and bitterness.

She shakes her head and finds her hand automatically reaching out to grasp onto his wrist, but before she can, she drops it. "No. _No._ It's not like that. I am asking you to keep safe the most precious thing in the world to me." She swallows thickly, the need to be honest suddenly fierce. "There's no one else I would trust more-"

"_No,_" he cuts in, his eyes suddenly narrowing on her face. "There's something else." His resolve crumbles as he suddenly seems to understand and his hand cups her cheek then. "I _know_ you…what is it?"

Again, she moves her head back and forth. "It's nothing-"

"Emma."

That's all it takes for her walls to come crashing down, her name said in _just_ that quiet tone accompanied by that all too knowing look on his face. _Perceptive bastard. _She exhales heavily and tries to steady her suddenly erratically beating heart, moving away from him to the table across the room. She leans her hands against it — bracing, needing the support — and distracts herself as she studies the various maps and diagrams marked with handwritten notes and arrows and circles and various other things — strategic warfare planning. It all feels so…surreal and ancient and fairytale-like, which actually wasn't all that odd, all things considering.

After a moment, she hears his boots click against the floor and turns her head slightly towards him when she feels him at her back. Her heart jumps into her throat as her body sways into him.

"Emma," he says again, but softer this time.

"I'll worry about Henry-"

"He'll be perfectly safe. He'll be well-guarded-"

"Not the way I want him to be," she insists, unable to keep her thoughts from him any longer. "I'll…I'll be distracted on the field if I'm worrying about him."

She turns abruptly, her eyes pleading with his. She's a wide-open book and it terrifies her and shortens her breath but she needs to tell him the truth.

"I'll worry about _you_, if you're out there," she finally admits. "Then I'll just be doubly distracted and I can't _afford_ any distractions, not when we're _so close_ to defeating the witch…but this way…_this way_, I can kill two birds with one stone. You'll both be safe- _safer_," she changes the word at his look, "And I won't worry about you two and I can get this done and send that bitch back to Oz once and for all, but at the same time…I'll have you as a precautionary back-up to protect Henry, _just in case_."

His eyes close and his hand pinches at the bridge of his nose, much like she had done earlier. "Oh, my darling…" He sighs once more and gently pushes her hair back from her shoulder. "And who's going to worry about you?"

Her heart stutters in her chest and her smile is soft as warmth floods through her. "_You_ will…like you always do, except now it'll just be from a safe place." His look is unconvinced and she takes a chance, resting her hand lightly against his arm. "I'm going to be fine-"

"You can't be sure-"

"My magic strong. It _will_ protect me."

His hand travels down her arm to grip at hers and her fingers squeeze reflexively in response.

"I don't like this."

"I know," she replies quietly. "I'm sorry." And she is, but for once in her life she's going to be selfish. She lowers her head, averting her gaze from his too-blue eyes and studies her hand in his. "We have to go," she says after a minute, ignoring the pang in her gut.

He doesn't move, so she does it first, knowing that if she doesn't, they'll stand there indefinitely and they _can't_ because they're running out of time. She backs away towards the door but before she can get too far, he tugs on her hand to bring her back. He raises their joined hands as she steps closer to him, presses his lips against them as he watches her.

"Be safe."

Her body sags and her eyes close as she gives in to a moment of weakness and presses a kiss to his fingertips. "I will."

Before she can change her mind, she closes the gap between them and gently touches her mouth to his. The warmth and light is instantaneous, internal yet all-consuming and she craves more. Her arms open, just as her heart does, and she wraps him in her embrace. Her hands delve into his unruly hair that she adores so much as she aligns her body to his and for one moment, everything is perfect in the world.

She can feel his arm snake around her waist to pull her closer, can feel his hand dancing up her back until he can cup the back of her neck. She sighs and simultaneously gives and takes, but the kiss is soft, a slow burn meant to soothe rather than ignite, and when he angles his head to deepen it just a fraction more, she can _feel_ his heartbeat…not just against hers, but _inside_ of her and it's _too much_. She pulls away and touches her forehead to his while they catch their breaths.

"Emma," he murmurs.

The words — those three little words — hang between them and she feels the prick of tears behind her eyes as well as the complete and utter surrender of her heart. "No," she replies with a shake of her head. "Don't. Tell me later. So I have something to look forward to."

"Very well, then," he answers, bumping their noses together before he tilts his head back just enough so that he can kiss her forehead. "As you wish."

* * *

They had been sitting side-by-side in silence for all of five minutes after Emma had cast a cloaking spell around what he'd been told had once been Henry's castle, before the child is turning his head towards him.

"I know you have feelings for my mom."

His voice is clipped and Hook winces at both the tone and the statement. He's always expected the conversation to come up sooner or later, he just wishes it were later.

"Henry-"

"I don't need a dad," he snaps. "I already have one."

It's technically an illogical statement considering he has _two _mothers, but Hook merely sighs and glances over at him, understanding his defensiveness to preserve his family. "It's not my intent to replace him, lad."

"Then what _is_ your intent?"

Hook takes another breath before shifting to angle his body towards him. "I…care about your mum, quite a bit." He chuckles then, unexpectedly. "Probably more than I should to be honest…she's stubborn and insufferable and a pain in the arse more often than not…" His voice is full of affection though, and a smile tugs on the corners of his mouth.

"She's bossy too," Henry scrunches his nose and nods his head in agreement after a moment. "And she likes to hog your french fries."

"Aye," he laughs once. "That she does. She's also brave, the bravest person I know…and she's intelligent and kind…she makes me better." He glances up again, meeting Henry's eyes. "I know this situation isn't ideal for you, I know you're hoping your family is given a second chance, but that choice is for Emma to make and until she asks otherwise of me, my intention is to remain here, at her side."

Henry thinks about that for some time, his expression contemplative but reveals nothing beyond that. "She cares about you too," he admits reluctantly, obviously torn on the matter. "I see it on her face every time she looks at you. She doesn't look at my dad like that, not really. I just want her to be happy. She really deserves to be happy."

This time Henry moves to face him.

"If you hurt her, my Gramps is going to be really angry at you. I'll be really angry too."

"I won't hurt her," he vows.

"And you'll take care of her? Make her smile and bring her flowers just because…and soup when she's sick?"

He smiles at him. "Aye. All of those things, Henry…and more."

Henry studies him like a hawk, hazel eyes boring into his. He seems to be satisfied with what he finds there because he nods his head once. "Will you teach me how to tie rope knots?"

"If you wish." He cants his head at him, brow quirking in amusement.

"And you'll let me sail the Jolly Roger?"

"As long as your mother approves."

"Can you teach me how to be a pirate?"

"In your dreams." He grins at the boy's fallen face. "Nice attempt, though."

"It never hurts to ask." Henry shrugs.

The gesture and the expression on his face is so like Emma's, he can't help but chuckle again.

"Can I be your First Mate? Every Captain needs a First Mate."

His hopeful eyes are also so like Emma's that Hook can't help but sigh. The boy would have him wrapped around his finger in no time. He really was his mother's son.

"Only if you swab the decks."

That makes him grin widely. "Deal."

"Henry…I know you said you didn't need another father…" He offers him a quiet smile and an outstretched hand. "But how about another friend instead?"

Emma's lad stares down at his hand for a moment before grasping it tightly. His eyes lift back to his. "I'd like that."

_Fin_


	5. Tally Marks

**Prompt **by felicity257:

_**After getting her memories back, Emma goes to the Jolly Roger looking for Killian and when she enters the captain's cabin she finds a count of all the days he had to live without her and when she asks him about it he says, "you said before that when you stop counting it means that you r giving up hope and i never gave up the hope of seeing you again"  
Extra bonus if they kiss.**_

* * *

**Tally Marks**

She hasn't seen him in days since their return to Storybrooke after the restoration of her memories. She remembers him being quiet on the drive, quieter still during her reunion with everyone, then she remembers his abrupt disappearance and his absence ever since. She's not sure if he's simply giving her space or if it's something else entirely, and she likes to tell herself it doesn't bother her, but as she stares up at the gangplank of the Jolly Roger…she knows that that's the furthest thing from the truth, because it _does_ bother her.

She takes a deep breath, steeling her nerve, then before she can change her mind, she begins the climb up onto the ship. The deck is empty when she drops down onto it and it feels eerily still. Her eyes move towards the open door of his quarters, but the room is vacant when she enters it and her brow furrows. _Huh_.

The wall opposite his bed catches her eye and she steps towards it out of curiosity. Her head cants as she nears it, the thin groove markings all along it confusing her. _Tally marks_, she realizes suddenly, and her eyes go wide as her heart lodges itself into her throat. _Hundreds _of them in rows and columns spanning the wall, neat little groups of four straight lines and one diagonal slash across them.

"Normally I throw stowaways in the brig, but perhaps for you…I can make an exception. If you make it worth my time, that is."

Her head whips around towards him and he's standing in the threshold, casually leaning against the doorframe with his arms and legs crossed and that infamous smirk curving up his lips.

"Fancy meeting you here," he drawls.

She doesn't take the bait, doesn't feel like playing — not when her chest is too tight with the emotions swirling inside of her and she can barely breathe. "What is this?" she asks, gesturing behind her.

The smile fades from his face as he studies her, holds her gaze intensely with his. After a minute he sighs, pushing his tongue into his cheek and slowly crossing the room to join her.

"Those, my darling, are _tally_ _marks_."

He speaks to her like she's a child and she glares at him. "I _know_ what they are, smartass, I want to know what they're for." She swallows thickly, looks at his profile as he looks at the wall. "What were you counting?" Her voice is soft this time, her stomach clenching in anticipation of his answer.

"What do you think?" he replies.

He doesn't look at her though, instead he reaches out and runs his hand gingerly over the scratches. It's only then that she notices the other marks on the wall, the scrapes and stains that suggest he may have spent a time or two breaking things he had a thrown against it. Her heart aches.

"There's 365 of them, aren't there?" she asks quietly, but she knows the answer already.

"367." He chuckles once then touches two lines that stand alone. "You said before that when you stop counting, it means that you're giving up hope." He turns to face her, focuses his gaze on hers before gently tucking her hair behind her ear with another sigh. "I never gave up the hope of seeing you again."

The hot sting of tears behind her eyes cracks her composure and her bottom lip trembles. "Where have you been?" she asks, the tears are in her tone, frustrating her, and all she can think of are the past days he's been missing from her life. A year has been enough, she doesn't want any more.

"I've been here all along," he smiles gently, strokes his finger over the little cleft in her chin. "Waiting for you to come around."

She's in his arms before he can draw another breath, enveloping him in her embrace and pressing her body to his as their mouths meet. Light flashes into her, warm and bright and beautiful and it's the most alive she's ever felt since Neverland. She never wants to lose it, never wants to lose _him_, and so she hangs on with everything she has, pours herself into the kiss and gives and gives because all she's ever done is take. She feels his heartbeat against her chest — strong and real and _oh God_, how has she been without this for so long?

Her hands find their way into his hair and he groans at the stroke of her tongue against his. _Mine_, she thinks, and he _is_. He is hers the way that she has always been and will always be _his_ — two halves of the same coin, kindred spirits, soul mates, True Loves…she knows it in the deepest part of her heart, and when his arms finally, _finally_ come around her, pulling her against him and holding her close, she knows that he knows it too. Though perhaps he's always known.

_Fin_


	6. Touch

**Prompt** by Anonymous:

_**"I don't want to handle it. I just want..." **_

**A/N:** Nonnie, I'm 99.9% sure this _isn't_ what you wanted, but I have to go where the muse takes me LOL xD… I hope you like it anyway though :)

* * *

**Touch **

He's panting hard, sweat beading along his brow as he stares at her with hazy eyes. "Emma," he hisses. "By the Gods, _please_."

"I _know_," she replies sharply.

His voice makes her stomach clench, lodges her heart into her throat as the breath backs up into her lungs. She steels herself, refusing to allow her emotions to cloud her head.

"Bloody _get on _with it!" he groans.

"Patience is a virtue," she replies in a soft sing-song voice.

"_Not right now, it isn't!_"

She rolls her eyes, shifts above him and runs her hand up his arm to his shoulder. "Look pal, you're not helping your cause here-"

"_Emma._" Her name is a plea — they match his desperate, puppy-dog eyes. "Darling, I can't take much more of this. It's bloody agony! _Please._"

She merely shakes her head, says nothing as she continues to move her hands over him.

"Do you wish for me to _beg_?" he barks irritably. "Is that it?"

She's never imagined him to be the begging type so the thought amuses her to no end.

"Why are you prolonging the inevitable? Do you wish for me to be on the verge of incoherence? Mindless in a haze of physical _pain_, writhing beneath you, _waiting for you to release me from the-_"

_Jesus Christ,_ but the man was _dramatic_. If she could sedate him she would, instead she abruptly cuts off his babbling with a slight jostle of his arm — _oops_, she smirks — and causes a long string of foul curses to leave his lips as pain shoots into his shoulder.

She sighs heavily. "Congratulations, you idiot, it's dislocated."

He moans and there's a twinge of guilt in the bottom of her belly that makes her purse her lips and has her curving his injured left arm into his chest so that it bends at a ninety degree angle. He sighs when it eases a little of the discomfort and her hand reflexively reaches out to brush the hair back from his brow — it's a soothing gesture, a silent apology for her earlier transgression.

"That's what I was afraid of," he mutters, breathing labored. "You'll need to set it back into place."

Her eyes widen as panic suddenly flashes down her spine. She swallows thickly, that's what she was afraid of. She knows he sees the apprehension in her eyes, senses her hesitation, by the expression that crosses his face.

"Do you remember…" His brow furrows as his eyes shut tight against the worsening ache. "In Neverland…when I told you that perhaps you were the one who couldn't handle it? _You can handle it_." He exhales on a loud _woosh _and another groan."For fuck's sake, you can handle anything so _please for the love of all that is good and holy in all the realms…handle this_!"

She can't stop shaking her head, can't stop the tightness in her chest or the tears from springing into her eyes. "I- I don't…I don't _want_ to handle it. I just want…"

"Want to what? Wait for help? We can't," he argues. "We're not safe in the Witch's territory, love. You have to do it, I'll be of no help to you if those flying abominations of hers return for a second attack and I'm still in this condition."

His eyes bore into hers, pleadingly, and she can feel her heart clutch in her chest. She hates seeing him like this.

"Emma, _please_…darling, you have to do it." His voice is soft, broken.

She presses her lips together as her brow pinches anxiously. She doesn't have the first clue about popping a dislocated shoulder back into place, but she does know that it's going to hurt — far more than just a little jostling — and it makes her heart ache.

"I don't want to hurt you," she whispers.

He reaches for her hand and somehow manages to smile — that annoyingly charming smile…her favorite smile — as he squeezes at her fingers. "It won't be so bad," he lies. "Besides, nothing can compare to the pain of being parted from you for over a year."

"_Seriously?_ Now's not exactly the best time for flirting, Hook." But her heart skips a little beat at his words and warmth spreads through her body anyway.

"I'm not flirting, I'm wooing. There's a difference-" His breath catches on a gasp and he releases her to grip at his arm. "_Emma._"

She makes a distressed noise in the back of her throat, her hands resting over his. "Alright. Alright, _fine_," she concedes. "But I don't know what to do, tell me what to do."

"Grasp my arm," he instructs while he slowly straightens it. "Keep a firm hold." His face twists in anguish as she does just that and he grits his teeth but makes no noise. Sweat drips down the sides of his face. "On 'three,' you'll pull slowly and steadily away from my body until the joint snaps back into the socket."

"Oh God," she mutters.

"You can do this, Emma…I trust you."

"_Oh God._"

He loops his good arm around a nearby log for leverage. "Ready?"

_No._ "Yeah."

He chuckles and he closes his eyes, tips his head up towards the sky and she wonders if he's sending up a silent prayer to the Gods that she can in fact do this.

"_One…_" He takes a few steadying breaths.

Emma's hands want to shake but she clamps down on the feeling. "Oh God."

"_Two…_" His eyes, so blue and trusting, hold hers intently.

Emma's positive she's going to be sick. "_Fuck._"

"_Three!_" He shouts out suddenly.

They move together, him tugging one way and her the opposite. The pain is searing, she can feel it radiating off of him as he braces against the log. His body is taut, a shaking mass of tension and his cries of pain echo in her head while she continues to firmly pull on his arm.

_I'm sorry. Oh God. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry_.

His shoulder finally pops after the longest, more agonizing minutes of her life, and he abruptly goes still and quiet the very second it's set. He all but collapses in exhaustion and she catches him against her, cradling him back into the protective circle of her arms while she rocks them. He's breathing heavily and she can't help but rest her cheek against the side of his head as she closes her eyes in relief. She did it, thank God, she did it.

"Shhh," she soothes. "It's okay, you're okay." She says it more for her comfort than his, she realizes.

"Nicely done, Savior," he chuckles weakly.

The sound makes tears well behind her eyes but she blinks them back before they can fall. She turns her head, presses a kiss against his temple, and when he tips his face up towards her, she gives in and touches her mouth lightly to his — once, twice…three times.

"Better?" he asks.

She gives a wry laugh then touches her forehead to his, noses gently bumping. "Yeah." She sighs against him. "I know it's not safe, and we should probably get you in a make-shift sling or something and go soon, but…do you mind if we just stay here for another minute?"

He angles his head up and brushes his lips over hers again. "Not at all."

"Good," she murmurs, kissing him more firmly on the mouth.

_Fin_


	7. Whiskey and Ribbons

**Prompt** by Anonymous:

_**Emma and Hook accidentally get married in the Enchanted Forest.**_

**A/N:** I didn't do it in the EF — again, must go where the muse goes — but I hope you don't hate it ;)

* * *

**Whiskey and Ribbons**

"Don't take this the wrong way, sweetheart, but…you look like hell."

She scowls on her way down the stairs, almost bares her teeth at her father as he stands at the stove flipping pancakes. "Gee, _thanks_."

"Looks like you had fun last night," Snow says neutrally, though her eyes are watchful on hers.

She makes some noise of discontent in response. "Tink's still determined to throw a party every week — I keep telling myself that eventually she has to run out of countries to theme them with."

"Where'd she take you last night?" David asks, glancing at her over his shoulder.

"Ireland. She invited us to this…_céilí_ or something." She plops down beside her mother, gratefully takes the coffee she offers and hums contentedly — Snow used two packets in the maker today, bless her.

"Mmm," Snow says. "That's like a ball isn't it?"

"I wouldn't say ball," Emma replies, her lips pursing in thought. "It was too relaxed to be a ball…but there was definitely dancing-"

"And whiskey," adds in a gruff, grumbling voice from behind. "_Lots_ of whiskey."

There's a little jolt down Emma's spine at his voice and she whirls abruptly, her eyes widening at the sight of an attractively disheveled pirate captain in her parent's kitchen. "What are you still doing here?"

He chuckles and runs his hand through his messy hair, attempting to smooth it into place. Emma's fingers itch to tangle there, to muss it up again. _Down girl_ — it wasn't even noon yet for Christ's sake.

"To be honest, I haven't the slightest clue," he replies, eyes holding hers steadily.

David rounds the center island, passing a coffee to Hook and clapping a hand companionably to his back after he takes it.

"Thanks, mate," Hook answers, giving him a small toast with the mug.

"After I hauled Emma's sorry butt upstairs, I came down and you were passed out on the couch already — _snoring_, might I add."

He let him stay here, Emma realizes, and it makes her heart squeeze.

"Oy!" Hook huffs defensively. "I've never snored in my entire 300 years of existence!"

David grins, returning to his breakfast-making. "Like a bull, pirate."

He rolls his eyes and mutters under his breath but saunters over to stand at Emma's side. He leans over the counter on his elbows and his expression suddenly changes, softening as he looks at her while that infamous smirk curves up his lips.

"Morning beautiful, come here often?"

She snorts and reaches up with a hand to shove his face away, hiding her grin behind her mug — _ridiculous, attractive idiot_.

"Oh!" Snow says suddenly, grasping Emma's hand to admire the white and gold silken ribbon around her wrist. "That's pretty, where'd you get that?"

Emma scowls at it, cants her head to the side while she tries to remember. "Last night at the handfasting ceremony, Hook has one too." She gestures at him.

Hook abruptly chokes on his coffee and David's spatula clatters noisily to the floor.

"The _what?_" David and Snow cry simultaneously. Her father swivels to face the three of them, eyes blazing as they land on Emma. "I'm sorry, I'm not sure I heard you correctly…did you say _handfasting_ ceremony?"

"Umm…yeah?"

"Son of a…" David sighs, gritting his teeth as his hand reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

Tension pinches in her shoulders as she watches him and her brow furrows in confusion. "I'm sorry, I'm not really seeing the significance here, what's the big deal? I mean, I know by the time we got around to it, we were already pretty schnockered-"

There was another collective round of groaning from both of her parents that had dread pooling into the pit of her stomach though she couldn't understand why. She was so baffled, what the hell were they getting up in arms about?

"But I mean, I remember Tink saying it was just some kind of traditional ceremony to…" Emma trailed off, eyes turning to Hook. "Shit, what was it for? I can't remember but she cut up the ribbon and let us keep a piece."

Hook doesn't get a chance to answer because her father is storming off, cursing in his wake.

"David," Snow says. "_Charming!_" She slides off the stool to follow after him. "Where are you going?"

He yanks the door open without so much as a glance back. "To go yell at Tink!"

The door shuts behind them and Emma can hear their muffled arguing on the other side. She turns to Hook once more and finds him with bright eyes and a far too amused expression on his face.

"What the _fuck_ did we do last night?"

"Well," he drawls slowly. "We definitely didn't do _that_." He gives her a cheeky wink. "But if handfastings have the same meaning here as they do in other realms…" He leans closer, crowds her space and gives her a winning smile. "It would seem, my love, that you and I…got married last night."

"_We what?_" she shouts.

Her head is reeling, the room is actually spinning, and she's another breath away from having a full-blown panic attack. He laughs, he actually has the nerve to laugh and all she can do is stare at his too handsome face — the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, the tiny little dimples in his cheeks — and gawk at him.

"'Mrs. Killian Jones' has a rather nice ring to it, don't you think? Or perhaps you'd prefer 'Mrs. Captain Hook?'" He grins at her, inches closer so that his mouth hovers enticingly over hers. "Though the real question is…how would you like to spend our honeymoon?"

_Fin_


	8. Head Over Feet

**Prompt** by Anonymous:

_**In the the Enchanted Forest Emma starts wearing leather pants, vests and peasant blouses and Hook is super distracted.**_

**A/N:** Again, probably not what you wanted, but I had a lot of fun with this one :))

* * *

**Head Over Feet**

She's wearing _another_ peasant blouse today, one that hangs off her shoulders and leaves them bare for his thirsty eyes. He wants to brand her there with his lips and teeth, with the rough scrape of his beard. Instead he turns, deflecting another one of her blows and scowling at her.

"_Weak_," he snaps mockingly, voice cruel and disgusted. "Are you meandering about the palace gardens, _princess_?" He knows she hates the term. "_Again!_"

Her composure remains, but her eyes flash dangerously — heat and fire in those endless green depths — as she moves away to reset her fighting stance. He smirks, he's always liked fire. They stare at each other intensely for two heartbeats and when she stays in place calculating her next move, he raises his eyebrow at her challengingly. He knows already what she's going to do, so he merely pivots out of the way of her next attack, using the flat part of his blade to clap her tauntingly on the back as she rushes past him.

"_Predictable_," he rolls his eyes. "Have you retained _nothing_ I've taught you?"

She grits her teeth and he can see her fighting the urge to snarl and simply charge at him. A little spark of pride shoots down his spine. _Good_. Staying calm and not allowing your opponent to goad you into making a reckless move was one of the first things he had taught her. She plants her feet shoulder's width apart for balance, keeps her elbows bent and close to her body as she grips the sword in both hands defensively. He grins. _Good girl._

"Are you going to stand there staring at my ass all day, _pirate_, or are you actually going to spar with me?" she shoots back.

He stills at that, eyes widening fractionally. He recovers quickly though, purposefully rakes his heated gaze over her lazily, lasciviously, and drinks her in. Golden hair tied back from an exceptionally beautiful face… sweat beading along her brow, sliding down her neck from their exerted efforts… the tantalizing shape of her breasts through the thin material of her blouse… leather breeches stretched tightly over shapely legs, bloody _taunting_ him.

He wants to run his tongue along her skin, whisper dark, _dark_ promises of the mindless pleasure he could give her… he wants to nip at the curve of those delicate shoulders, scrap his teeth over her collarbone as he murmurs words of forever over her burning flesh… he wants to rip her pants to fucking _shreds_ with hand and hook, drive her to the edge of oblivion with his mouth before burying himself inside of her and watching her come undone beneath him _because _of him, only him, always _him_.

He knows the minute the air's changed between them, can see the rosy hue creeping up to her cheeks and the sudden labored rise and fall of her chest. She wants as he wants. He can practically _feel_ her desire coursing through his veins, matching his own. He swallows thickly but says nothing, narrowing his eyes as he gestures at her with his sword. _Come on then_.

They move circularly in an endless dance — watching, anticipating, waiting. He's not sure who moves first, only knows that his arm sings as their blades clash. In the privacy of his mind, he can admit that she's rather quite good — agile, smart, a fast learner. What she lacks in strength she makes up for in creativity and wit, it's a particular skill he's insisted she hone.

"Come on, Swan," he laughs, enjoying himself. "Is that all you've got, love?"

She growls, pivots the way he taught her and forces him back two paces. _Excellent_. She's fast, but he's faster and far more experienced. He side-steps out of the way of her blade before easily disarming her and simultaneously grasping at her free arm with his hook. He uses it to roll her into him so her back is pressed against his chest and the blade of his sword is at her throat. She squirms against him and he chuckles lowly — his mouth near her ear — at her obvious frustration and annoyance.

"Good form," he smirks.

She ceases her struggling — his grip is too firm — then angles her head at him, mouth hovering, breath mingling hotly with his. Her eyes raise and she's so close he can see the little flecks of gold in the jade. His stomach clenches, he wants as she wants, and he relaxes marginally as she tips her mouth up towards him.

"_Hook_," she murmurs.

He inches forward, bumps his nose against hers. "_Emma._"

And suddenly her foot comes down on his, _hard_, and he yelps in pain as his arms release her. He doesn't even get a chance to curse when her elbow is suddenly in his gut and he's doubling over. She kicks his sword from his hand, expertly catches it as it flies up into the air then points it at his throat while he kneels before her. He stares up at her — she's smug, defiant, powerful — is it a bloody wonder why he's so head over feet in love with her?

She pushes his chin up with the sharp point of the blade then leans forward so their faces are close. "_Thanks_," she smirks pointedly.

The heat simmers between them for another minute, eyes holding endlessly and he can feel his heart hammering in his chest. Then she's tossing the sword away, gripping at the front of his shirt and crushing her lips to his in a searing kiss.

The world explodes behind his eyes, a million points of light that fill him to the brim and all he can think is _Emma_. Her mouth moves hungrily over his and all he can do is give — all he _wants to do_ is give. Her teeth rake sharply over his bottom lip and he groans when her tongue flicks out to soothe. It's gone as quickly as it comes and by the time his brain starts functioning again all he sees is empty space, all he feels is the memory of the firm press of her mouth against his. He's breathing hard when he glances up.

"See you tomorrow," she calls over her shoulder.

She grins at him then saunters away with a confident sway of hips that draws his attention to her butt. He tries not to drool, orders himself to breathe for fuck's sake. He shakes his head…_head over feet._

_Fin_


	9. And I Did Win It

**Prompt** by Tumblr user: _hooksbooty_

_**Emma waking up one morning and realizing that Hook /has/ won her heart and the "oh, shit" moment that follows.**_

**A/N:** ALL THE FLUFF *throws confetti*

* * *

**And I Did Win It**

Emma awoke with a hand resting heavily on her hip and her legs tangled with the owner of said hand. She could hear the soft pitter-patter of rain against the window and it made her smile. She loved rainy days, loved to stay warm and cozy under her covers reading a book or watching movies.

She cracked her eyes open, studied his face while he dozed and her smile widened. She had a feeling he wouldn't be opposed to the idea, though she was sure the activities he would much rather engage in would be far more _rigorous_ and…_demanding_. A quick little jolt shot down her spine and she shivered in delicious anticipation — she would definitely not be opposed to _that_ idea.

She felt…_giddy_, and it was such an odd feeling too because when was the last time she had felt this relaxed and peaceful and…Jesus, _happy?_ She shifted on the pillow, nose brushing against his as she settled in and continued to watch him rest. He looked so angelic this way, young and carefree, his boyish charm accentuated by sleep…and he really was handsome, unfairly so. She couldn't help but sigh about it while her fingers itched to stroke over the scruff on his jaw. _Stupid attractive pirate._

She didn't touch him though, didn't want to wake him. She liked letting him rest, he hadn't gotten much of it in the last year that they'd spent apart — he never actually said so but she just…_knew_. Maybe because she hadn't either.

He stirred, fingers digging into her bare skin as he inched her closer. A soft smile tugged on the corners of her mouth — he was such a…cuddler. It surprised her, but then, he had a habit of doing that. Her heart squeezed in her chest as images of the past two years flashed into her mind…a beanstalk, a jail cell, a swirling portal…a hospital bed, an offer for a second chance…a stolen kiss, a confession in a cave, a promise before a heartbreaking separation.

_There's not a day will go by I won't think of you._

He'd kept his word, thought about her every second of every minute of every hour of every day for over a year. It was overwhelming and staggering and frightening to be felt so strongly for, especially by someone like him. He just…had a way about him that was so…_classic_ — old chivalry now dead and long forgotten by the inevitability of time and an ever-growing under-appreciation for such traditions. Men like that — the 'open your door, pull out your chair, give you my coat' type — simply didn't exist anymore. He was a dream and yet he was hers, live and in the flesh and _here_.

It was still a wonder though how _she_ ended up here as well, after all, she stopped believing in fairytales a long time ago. Well, that was until this persistent, cheeky, incredibly attractive, adorable idiot showed up in her life and made her believe in love again simply by loving _her_ — she stiffened at the sudden realization, her eyes going wide.

_Holy shit._ She…she believed in love again, _she_, Emma Swan, the lost girl with walls miles high believed in love again. _Son of a bitch!_ He'd done it, he'd gone and won her heart just as he promised he would. _Sneaky bastard. _Everything inside of her tightened painfully, _sweetly_, before going warm and light and soft. _Oh God._

He shifted again, arm moving to cradle her back as he snuggled against her. "Emma," he murmured as he touched their foreheads together.

She closed her eyes at the sound of her name on his lips, her heart squeezing once before it lodged itself into her throat. It was all here, everything that she could ever want, and all she had to do was take it. Where she wouldn't touch him before, she gave in now, _needing _to. Her hand stroked over his arm, over the strong curve of his shoulder, before delving into his hair. She nuzzled her face against his, a gesture that caused him to hum in the back of his throat.

"Morning," he whispered quietly, voice hoarse and thick with sleep.

"Morning," she answered.

"What are you thinking about?"

She smiled and imagined shaking her head at him. "How do you know I'm thinking about something?"

"I can practically hear those wheels in that lovely head of yours spinning to life."

"Maybe I'm just laying here, mind blank and devoid of thought."

"Or perhaps you're thinking of ways to take advantage of a poor, sleeping, defenseless pirate." He cracked an eye open to give her a cheeky grin.

Her hand tugged playfully at his hair. "You keep your hook on the nightstand, I hardly think you're defenseless."

"You make me weak." His lips curved up further and the shallow dimples on either side of his mouth winked at her. "Cloud my head with memories of your sweet mouth and eager hands…how's a man to think, let alone defend himself, when such beauty lies at his side."

She _was not_ going to swoon, damn it, she wasn't. She managed to hide her smile behind a roll of her eyes. "Are you serious? It's not even 10 o'clock yet."

He laughed then tilted his head back to kiss the tip of her nose. "I am alluring at every hour."

"Yeah, except when you snore," she retorted.

He pulled back, brows pinched in insult. "I _do not_ snore."

"How would you know? You're asleep."

"What do you take me for, lass? Some kind of barnyard animal?"

Her shoulders shook with her quiet laughter. "Don't worry! I think it's cute-"

"There's nothing _cute_ about-"

"It's endearing," she insisted, stroking her foot affectionately up his bare calf. "It makes you more real."

He stilled at that, leaning back to look at her, his expression suddenly serious. "Why wouldn't I be real?"

She couldn't avert her eyes so she closed them, shrugging as she did do.

"Emma," he said, then when she didn't reply, "Swan. What is it, love?"

She shook her head and burrowed further into the pillow. "It's nothing, forget about it."

"I find it mildly offensive that you are keeping things from me."

"_Oh my God!_" Her eyes snapped open. "I am not keeping things from you!"

"But you won't talk to me."

"Sometimes people don't want to talk to you, Killian."

He gave her a look. "You always want to talk to me."

Her face scrunched in annoyance — he had her there.

"You've something on your mind, obviously, so just say it."

She sighed exasperatedly. "I just…I don't know. Sometimes you don't feel _real_."

He shifted, body brushing against hers. "How's _that_ for real?"

Her bust of laughter filled his cabin and she cuddled into him, burying her face in his neck. She adored that about him, that he could go from serious to easy laughter in a heartbeat. "That is _not_ what I meant."

"Pity," he tsked disappointedly, but his arm tightened around her. "And here I was thinking that you would need some more convincing."

She chuckled and pressed her lips to his shoulder. "I just meant…I spent almost my entire life feeling alone and unloveable and then Henry happened and my parents happened-"

"Emma-"

"Wait," she interrupted, ignoring the tone in his voice as she lifted her head to stare down at him. "Let me finish. You asked for the words so let me finish."

His hand moved from her back to push her hair over her shoulder. "Very well then, go on."

She took a deep breath, her eyes drifting over his face — she wanted to remember him this way, wanted to remember the blue of his eyes and the patient smile tugging up the corners of his mouth.

"And you happened," she said quietly after another moment, watching him intently. "You with your charm and your endless belief in me…with your kindness and your patience and your selflessness…with your tenacity and resilience and your incredible capacity to love…_you_ happened and it's so surreal that somebody like you could feel about me the way that you do."

He didn't reply, just studied her with knowing eyes and his lips pressed together.

She reached out with her hand, the backs of her fingers grazing over the scruff on his jaw. "I don't know how or why this even happened," she continued, her voice soft and serious. "But I do know that…" She took one more huge breath, knew that there would be no going back once she said the words. "I don't want you to ever stop."

The look that crossed his face made her heart squeeze again and when he reached up to cup her cheek in his hand, tears began to well in her eyes — she closed them to force them back.

"How could I stop?" he asked gently. "How could I ever stop? You are amazing, Emma Swan, and I will gladly spend the rest of my life reminding you of how courageous and beautiful and bloody brilliant you are." He grasped her hand, held it over his heart. "I am real, my love, as real as you and I am not going anywhere."

Her eyes opened and a single tear trickled down her cheek, warmth as golden as the sun spreading to every part of her while she exhaled loudly. "That was oddly terrifying and easy all at once."

"Confessing your undying love for me?" He grinned and brought her hand up to his mouth to nip playfully at her knuckles.

Her jaw dropped at his boldness but she smiled back at him. "I did no such thing!"

He scrunched his face in amusement and shrugged. "The absence of those three words is naught but a minor technicality, it was close enough."

She chuckled, her heart rate picking up as she leaned forward to brush her mouth tenderly over his. "Baby steps, pirate…baby steps."

"Alright, but is it safe to assume that I won your heart the way I promised I would?"

She rolled her eyes but kissed him once more just because she could. "I suppose if you must, you must."

"You know what this means, don't you?" He kept her close, murmured his words over her lips.

"That I'm stuck with you?" she grinned.

"Forever," he agreed, nodding solemnly.

Sudden flashes of a house by the sea, a dog, Henry's gleeful laughter, trips aboard the Jolly, gloriously endless days of loving, and a dark-haired toddler with bright blue eyes flittered through her mind — a family, a home, a _life_. _Oh God_. Her heart ached with want.

"Hmm," she replied. "I don't know, it has a nice _ring_ to it."

"Baby steps, Swan…baby steps," he chuckled softly, then closed his mouth over hers.

_Fin_


	10. I Wanna Hold Your Hand

**A/N:** Based off an on-set photo Ginny Tweeted of Jen and Colin in a snowy field (as little specs in the distance) and the speculation that Hook and Emma were _**holding hands**_ *has hearts for eyes*

* * *

**I Wanna Hold Your Hand**

"But Emma-"

"_Hook._" Her voice is an exasperated sigh.

"But-"

"_No._" She's insistent, glaring at him over her shoulder as she continues to walk through the snowy field.

"But what if-"

"No! You are being ridiculous."

"Hey!" He sounds seemingly offended. "I'm completely serious, darling."

She rolls her eyes and shoots him another unamused look but doesn't reply.

"I could get lost!" He tells her with big puppy-dog eyes.

She's not going to fall for it, _damn it_, she's _not._ She stops suddenly in her tracks, cutting him off, then turns to face him as her hands move to her waist. "Are you kidding me? We're standing in a wide-open field and the sun is still out — it will _be _out for _at least_ another three hours — how the hell are you going to get lost?"

He contemplates her for a moment then straight-faced and unblinkingly says, "I could be kidnapped."

"You are a grown man with a hook for a hand and a sword at your hip, I highly doubt you'll be kidnapped."

"Alright, point taken," he concedes. The silence stretches between them for a few moments. "But what if _you_ get lost."

Emma scrunches her nose then scrubs her hands tiredly over her face. "I'm not going to get lost."

His blue eyes hold her green. "Emma, just hold my hand."

She swivels back around when heat begins to crawl up her neck and settles into her cheeks. "For God's sake, _Hook_, we are in the middle of a _war_! I'm not going to hold your Goddamn hand!"

He falls into step beside her, body angled towards her as he continues to plead his case. "We can face anything if we do it together, hand-in-hand, love."

He pouts when she doesn't say anything — she can see it in her peripheral vision.

"Your parents do it."

She wants to snarl at him, instead she grumbles under her breath and keeps her steady pace. The air quiets around them when he says nothing more on the matter, which is fine by her because her head needs to be elsewhere and not on…_that_. But now that he's brought it up, all she can think about is what it would feel like to grasp his hand in hers, though not with the intention of betrayal like back on the beanstalk — there's still a little pang in her heart at the thought — but to unite them together, as a _team_.

Suddenly, on her next step, the snow gives way and her foot sinks through it. She gasps, loses her balance and almost falls but she feels Hook's hand grasp her elbow to hold her up.

"Whoa!" he says. "Easy! Are you alright?"

Emma glances at him, a grateful smile tugging up the corners of her mouth. "Yeah, I'm alright. Thanks."

"Of course," he replies, gaze holding hers once more as he matches her smile.

They stay that way for two heartbeats, unmoving while they stare at each other, and then she feels the slow slide of his hand down her arm. Her heart rate picks up just a little bit and she quirks her brow at him. His rises back in challenge as his hand stops on her wrist, fingers curling around it while he waits for another protest from her. None comes and his smile widens before he firmly takes her hand in his.

She doesn't realize she's been holding her breath until it exhales on a _woosh. _

"There. That's not so bad, is it?"

With another roll of her eyes, she shakes her head at him. "You're ridiculous."

He brings her hand up, lightly pressing a kiss to her knuckles. She's wearing gloves but she feels the burn of it through the material anyway.

"Ridiculously _attractive_," he grins.

Emma studies him for another minute — handsome man with a heart of gold and an insanely large capacity to love…funny, dashing, honorable and chivalrous…and…_damn it...__hers_. It makes her heart squeeze sweetly in her chest, makes her press her lips together to keep the emotions from spilling out. Not yet, she can't yet…not all the way, not when there's still so much at stake.

"What's wrong?" he asks, his brow furrowing.

She sighs, reaching up to smooth the line away. Of course he knows, he always knows. "It's nothing, don't worry."

"Where you're concerned, I always worry."

Her stomach flips and a little ball of emotion lodges itself into her throat. "I know," she murmurs, and before she can change her mind, she leans forward and tilts her head up so that she can touch her mouth softly to his. She lingers only for a second, lips unmoving but pressed firmly against his, then she's shifting back, her expression soft. "You don't have to worry about _this_ though, I promise."

By the look on his face she knows that he understands what she means, that what's between them is real and true and will always remain.

"Very well then," he smiles.

She takes a step back, moving away first because she knows if she doesn't, they'll stand there all day making googley-eyes at each other. The thought makes her roll her eyes but also threatens to make her match the curving of his lips.

"Come on, pirate." She tugs on his hand. "It'll be dark soon."

Emma leads the way and Hook follows, and when she feels him lace their fingers together, she can no longer keep the smile from her face. Them against the world — the Pirate Captain and the Savior, kicking ass and taking names…_God_, her life is a mess but she doesn't care because he was right when he said it earlier. They could do anything as long as they did it together, hand-in-hand.

_Fin_


	11. Tattoos Are Forever

**Prompt** by Anonymous:

_**there's a lot of talk of tattoos on my dash recently, and now i have a mighty need for hook to get one on his left arm because of emma during the year without her and she notices it after they make love for the first time and realizes even more how much he loves her. Do you still take fic prompts? Because i'd love for you to write that :)**_

**A/N:** You guys keep sending me fluff, I will keep writing ze fluff. No regrets! YOLO! There's also a teensy bit of smut - like if you blink hahah so M rating for this one. (Posted to Tumblr February 23, 2014.)

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**Tattoos Are Forever**

"Are you…alright?"

His words come out between gasping breaths and make her smile. _Always the gentleman, her pirate._ She runs the inside of her leg upwards against his bare side then back down as her foot grazes against his calf.

"Mmmm."

That's all she can manage, that and the little tug on his hair from her fingertips. She tingles all over, body buzzing in approval at the feel of every inch of him pressed down onto every inch of her. Her surroundings are a little muted still, like she's submerged in water, and when his lips brush over hers in a tender gesture, she sighs contentedly. The white persists behind her eyelids, tiny stars fading out slowly while she comes down from her high.

Her chest rises where his falls…_inhale…exhale_…and their breaths mingle as he rests his forehead against hers. _God_. She feels amazing — sated, relaxed, gloriously _used_. Then through her sex-addled haze she dimly hears him chuckle and she wonders if he knows her thoughts because he shares them or if she's simply just the open book she's always been to him. Perhaps it's a little bit of both.

He's so close she can feel his smile brush against her mouth. "That was-"

"Definitely _not_ a one time thing," she interrupts. "_Jesus._" Her limbs suddenly feel too heavy for her to hold up so she releases his hair and flops her arms on the bed. "I came three times." Her voice is completely baffled.

He kisses the corner of her mouth, brushes his nose against her cheek. "Four, actually."

Her eyes open wide at his smug tone and her mouth drops in shock. "I did not!"

He laughs and it's a sound she hasn't heard often but it's one she wants to hear always and into the rest of forever. _Wrecked_. She mentally shakes her head at herself. _Utterly and completely wrecked. Ugh_.

"Oh," he coos, trailing his lips over her jaw. "You most certainly _did_."

"That is a lie," she insists, angling her head away to give him better access to her neck. Jesus but the man has a talented mouth.

"Truth," he counters, hot breath dancing over her still warm skin. "I'm fairly certain we could have gone for another round, but I was trying to pace you."

She rolls her eyes but there is no heat behind it, then her hand tangles in his hair once more and she tugs playfully. "How chivalrous of you," she deadpans, though she's about 99% sure she wouldn't have survived if they had tried for a fifth time.

He chuckles against her shoulder and it rumbles from his chest and into hers. "You're very…_responsive_, Swan." His teeth graze lightly over the pulse point just below her ear, as if to prove a point, and her body jerks against his on cue. "I like watching you come undone for me."

_Heat_. _So much heat. Fuck. _His words send heat straight down into her core and the muscles of her inner walls clench reflexively. He groans immediately, body shifting against hers, and they simultaneously gasp at the friction they create. He's still inside of her for crying out loud.

"_Oh God._" She exhales on a shaky breath, skin humming as her body comes alive once more. Something between panic and anticipation coils in her belly. "We _can't_."

"I can assure you," he smirks. "We _can_. But should we? Probably not." He laughs quietly again, gently slipping out of her as he gives her a chaste kiss on the mouth before bracing on his arms to move off of her.

She makes some sound of protest at the loss of him and her hands reach up instinctively, closing around his wrists to prevent him from moving any further. He stills above her, blue eyes holding hers intently. She looks up at him with a sheepish expression her face.

"Wait," she tells him, and that's all she can say, the words getting stuck in her throat. She can't explain the need to have him near, she just knows that right now, this is exactly where she wants them to be.

His lips curve up and he bends to touch his mouth sweetly to hers, lingering long enough to soothe but not ignite. "Crushing you," he murmurs.

"I don't mind," she replies, matching his smile as her hands trail back and forth from wrists to elbows.

His eyes sweep across her face, as if memorizing every curve and he sighs as he settles back over here. "Very well, if the lady insists."

She smiles at him, her hands making their way up his forearms towards his shoulders. By chance, her thumb brushes across the pulse point on the inside of his elbow and he freezes the same moment she feels the slightly raised skin — it's a tattoo, she knows because the one on her wrist feels the same way. Her eyes never leave his face so she sees the myriad of emotions that flicker across it and her brow furrows curiously. Emma glances down at his arm then and he abruptly moves off of her.

"Emma," he starts, his voice slightly agitated. "I can explain."

It's too late though, she's already seen it and her heart's already lodged itself into her throat. It's a simple tattoo, nothing more than an outline, but it's a very specific one. Her gaze lifts back to his and she has to blink back the tears that suddenly spring into her eyes.

"You got a swan tattoo," she says quietly, sitting up.

He looks distressed, pained almost, and…remorseful. He exhales heavily, closing his eyes and pinching at the bridge of his nose. "Emma. Emma, I-" His words cut out abruptly, replaced by a string of curses that leaves his lips. "I'm sorry."

He tries to move away from her but she's quick, catch his wrist and keeping him in front of her. "Hey," she says, meeting his eyes. "What's wrong? What are you apologizing for?"

"Look, I didn't mean for you to- I didn't want- _ah, bloody hell_."

It's been over a year since she's seen him this way — open, vulnerable, _scared_. Memories of the Echo Caves flash into her and her chest feels achingly tight. He loved her then, _he loves her still_, and this time when the tears come, she doesn't bother holding them back.

"Don't." Her voice is strong, firm. "Don't you dare do that. Don't ever apologize for…_feeling_ about me the way that you do. I don't want you to…to feel ashamed for…_loving_ _me_."

He goes completely still at her words and for the first time in the entire time she's known him, his face is unreadable to her. Her heart hammers wildly in her chest, the words are out, the emotions on the table, and they stare at each other while the silences stretches on and on and on and the tension mounts higher and higher and she can't _stand _it and _oh God_, why isn't he saying anything and-

Emma's frantic, panicked thoughts end the second he tugs her forward and crushes his mouth to hers. It's the same as their first kiss, the same as all their kisses after — light and warm and overwhelmingly full and breathtaking and earth-shattering and _perfect_. He pulls her under and she lets him, floating on the giddy sensation of being kissed by him and kissing him back.

She loves this man, loves him with everything inside of her and it's frightening and mind-blowing and she can't remember how it started or even when but damned if she doesn't feel like she was meant to love him from the start. His hand cradles the back of her head, like she's the most precious thing in the world, and both of her hands move to cup his face because he is equally as precious to her.

She moves into him, pressing their bodies together and enveloping him in the warmth of her embrace. She loves him with her mouth, with the tangle of her hands in his hair, and the beat of her heart to time with his. It's he who eventually pulls away but he keeps her close, resting their foreheads together.

"Emma," he whispers.

"Killian," she answers back, the corners of her mouth tugging up.

His fingertips flutter across her jaw. "You're not upset?"

She strokes the pad of her thumb over the scar on his cheek, bumps her nose against his affectionately. "How? How could I be upset?"

Then she leans back, hands reaching for his arm to study the ink on his skin. The tattoo sits directly over his pulse point so that his heartbeat rests inside of the swan outline. She traces over it with her index finger as the emotions well up again. She presses her lips together as a tear spills onto her cheek, though before she can catch it, he raises his hand to brush it away.

"You've my heart, Emma Swan."

His tattoo, and it's location, is both symbolic and appropriate and thinking about it makes her heart squeeze again. Her eyes flutter back to his and her face twists as the rest of her walls come crumbling down.

"And you have mine, you stupid pirate."

She's in his arms again, crying sweet, happy tears and kissing him like she never intends to stop, but as he shifts them, moving over her and eases her back into the bed, she knows he'd be perfectly fine with that until the end of time.

_Fin_


	12. Three Best Mates

**A/N:** Inspired by the photo Colin and Sean Tweeted from the hockey game they took Jared to. Not CS, not even close, but I wrote it as part of my 'Just A Wee Bit' collection, so in here it shall stay :))

* * *

**Three Best Mates**

"No, no it's this one," Killian says, tapping his thumb against the messaging device the way Henry taught him, and suddenly his and Robin's faces appear before his eyes.

"Bloody hell," Robin murmurs. "Is it like a mirror?"

"Swan calls it a 'camera,' she said it's as if having your portrait done, except in a fraction of the time."

Robin grasps the phone from him, turns it on it's side and studies it with curious eyes as the camera adjusts. "What sort of sorcery is this?"

"Surprisingly, none," Killian replies, canting his head and watching his reflection follow suit. "I asked the same thing myself and she swore no magic was involved, just the technological advancements of this realm."

"Fascinating, Roland would love that," he says, handing him back the phone.

His thumb slips and the camera clicks, snapping their photo.

Robin jumps at the sound and leans in to inspect the modern gadget. "Oh! Apologies, apologies, did I break it?"

He chuckles quietly and presses against the little box in the corner that Henry said brings back the pictures. Their image flickers onto the screen and Robin whistles lowly.

"Took your picture, is all," Killian tells him.

"Brilliant," he says, taking it back. He holds it out, eyeing their portrait.

Killian's tongue presses into his cheek and he smirks. "May I borrow that for a second?"

"Sure," Robin answers.

He works slowly, trying to remember the sequence that Henry had taught him. _Open Message icon, Add Contact, Choose Existing, Camera Roll, select picture, type message, and…SEND. _

"What are you about, mate?" Robin asks.

"Nothing," he grins, pocketing the apparatus. "Just sending our old pal, _Dave_, a little message."

"And what message is that?"

"Our portrait…with 'mates' underneath." Killian gives him a smug smile.

"He's going to murder me."

"Hardly," he rolls his eyes. "But he'll be here within the hour."

Robin snickers, leaning back in his seat and getting more comfortable. "As long as he brings booze."

"Oh, he'll bring booze, can't be outdone by _you_, after all."

When Charming shows up in exactly twenty minutes with a case of beer and snacks, Killian claps him companionably on the back and sends Robin a smirk. "Cheers, mates."

_Fin_


	13. Just A Name

**A/N:** Just a wee bit. Post Emma's memory restoration :)) Happy Once Eve! Also, I keep forgetting to say this, but THANK YOU all so much for reading my fics and liking and reblogging and flailing in your comments and in my askbox. I've seen every single one of your tags and read all the reviews and have treasured them deeply 33 I love you guys! Xx (Posted to Tumblr March 8, 2014.)

* * *

**Just A Name**

"What do you mean we're going out of town?"

She's frantic, head reeling with the weight of her newly restored memories, and hurriedly shoves things into her duffle bag. "Exactly that, we're going out of town."

She really needs him not to ask questions right now, because while _her_ memories have been restored, _his_ very much _have not_ and how the _hell_ do you tell your son that he's related to _Fairytale _characters without sounding like a complete crazy person.

"What about school? I have a test tomorrow."

She gives him a look, brow raised in amusement. "_Now_ you want to dig your heels in about not going to school?"

"Why are you being so secretive?" He asks bluntly.

She swallows thickly then sighs as their eyes meet. She's never lied to him before — at least not in the life where Regina gave them fake memories.

"Mom, what's going on?"

Emma presses her lips together at the concern in his voice, then crouches in front of him while he sits on the edge of her bed and reaches for both of his hands. "Henry, kid…listen to me. I can't…explain everything to you yet, okay? There's just…something we need to go take care of. It's really, really _important_."

Her heart's been heavy since she'd taken that potion, her emotions wreaking havoc on her ability to function like a normal human being and she's trying so desperately _not_ to have a breakdown.

"I need you to trust me. I just need you to pack a bag and meet me in the living room in ten minutes, alright? Can you do that for me?" She reaches up to touch his face, willing back the tears from her eyes as she tries to ignore the clash of her _real_ memories colliding with the implanted ones. Giving him up. Not giving him up. Boston. Storybrooke. Video games, movie nights, homework, science projects. Curses, Operation: Cobra, walkie talkies, portals. She's going to lose it, she's going to fucking lose it.

He studies her for a long time, hazel eyes boring into her green, and she doesn't realize she's been holding her breath until he simply nods and eases himself from the bed to go to his room. She sighs in relief then scrubs her hands tiredly over her face.

"Is this about the guy in leather?"

She glances over her shoulder and sees him frozen in the threshold, one hand resting on the doorframe. _You mean Captain fucking Hook_? "Yeah," she tells him quietly, truthfully.

Henry mulls over that for a second then makes some humming noise before disappearing down the hall. She flops onto her bed facedown, whimpering into her sheets as an image of dark hair, deeply blue eyes, and a handsome face swims into her head. _Fuck_.

"Lovely quarters," he says.

Her body jerks — stupidly attractive accent — and she pushes off the bed abruptly, standing to face him. She is completely unprepared for the sight of him in her doorway, silently studying her room.

_There's not a day will go by I won't think of you._

_Good._

Shit.

_Swan…at last._

_Look, I know you can't remember me, but…I can make you._

Fucking hell.

"Though I do believe I imagined being here under…_different_ circumstances."

He says the words pointedly, his eyes moving back to hers and holding with a soft intensity that makes the breath back up into her lungs. She clears her throat and averts her gaze, moving towards the bag she's packing.

"I thought I told you to wait in the kitchen." She grabs some clothes from her open drawer and refuses to acknowledge her shaking hands.

He chuckles lightly and she can hear him move into her room, the leather of his ridiculous long coat crinkling and swishing around his legs. She shakes her head and sighs again. He couldn't have found her while wearing clothes that didn't make him look like he just walked off the pages of a Fairytale book?

"I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

It's the softness in his tone that makes her turn towards him, it's the look on his face that makes her want to close the distance between them and slide her arms around his neck and just _hold on_. Their year apart doesn't seem to have done anything to diminish the open book she is to him, he knows exactly what she's going through — the turmoil and the grief and the _pain_ — and she can't figure out if she's okay with that or if it annoys the crap out of her. Perhaps it's a little of both.

She takes a step towards him. "Hoo-"

"Mom?"

Henry's abrupt entrance shatters the moment and she breathes a sigh of relief, unsure of what she had intended to even _do _or _say_. She turns her attention to her son and gives him a tight smile. "All set?"

"Yeah," he replies, but he's looking at the pirate.

_Damn it. _She can practically see the wheels in his head turning as he looks at Hook with big, curious eyes. "Um..Henry, this is…" Her expression is pained as she hesitates. _Hook? Captain Hook? Dread Pirate Jones? _"Killian," she eventually says, the name foreign though not at all unpleasant on her tongue. "Killian Jones."

She senses, rather than sees, Hook stiffen and she can feel his gaze burning into the side of her head and she's not going to look at him, _damn it_. Her heart is beating just a smidgen fast and her palms are suddenly sweaty and her cheeks are warm and _God_, it's just a name for fuck's sake! (Her real memories tell her that's a complete lie.)

"He's, ah…he's…an old friend."

Emma has no idea why she does it, it's more instinctual than anything, but she glances over at Hook as she says it and her heart shoots up into her throat. He's staring at her with such reverence, so much longing and relief and joy and _hope_, that she actually _aches_ from it.

_Really_? She glares at him because, let's be real here, it isn't exactly the best time for _that_.

The dimples in his cheeks flash as he smiles at her, a knowing look on his face, and she wants to hit him over the head. Two heartbeats pass, his gaze unwavering from her, and it wasn't a whole lot of time, but it was enough that she's _positive_ her overly perceptive son picked up on it and she's going to murder _Killian freaking Jones_ five ways to next Tuesday for it.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Henry," he speaks, finally tearing his eyes away from her to greet her son.

He steps towards him, hand outstretched and Emma resists the urge to roll her eyes. Henry doesn't hesitate, small hand clasping his firmly while his brow pinches and he scrutinizes Hook.

"Have we…met before?" he wonders.

She's about ready to physically jump in, her body coiled and ready to pounce if need be because _shit_, she didn't tell Hook not to say anything about well, _anything_, but he takes the question with ease, steering Henry alongside the truth instead of directly to it.

"A long time ago," Hook answers. "You were…too young to remember."

Henry's eyes flicker to hers before rolling at the pirate. "What are you even _wearing?_"

"What are _you_ wearing?" Hook counters.

He sounds offended and defensive all at once and Emma gives him an exasperated look. He could be such 5 year-old sometimes.

"Definitely not _that_," Henry says, scrunching his nose.

"What's wrong with this?"

"You look like a rockstar…or a pirate."

Hook's brow arches as he smirks. "Well, I'll have you know, young lad-"

"_Alright_!" Emma cuts in, a nervous laugh escaping her mouth. "Henry, why don't you go make sure that all the windows are locked and the stoves are off and…_stuff_, before we get going?"

He frowns in annoyance, gives her _that_ look before trudging out of her room and Emma takes a deep breath to center herself. Hook swivels to look at her, the corners of his mouth curved up pleasantly while his eyes dance with mirth.

"Are we on a first name basis then, _Emma_?" He rocks back onto his heels, grin smug.

He's an idiot. A dashing rapscallion through and through and damned if she isn't a little emotional about being parted from him for an entire year without a single thought or recollection of him.

"Henry is still running on implanted memories," she hisses, her eyes narrowing at him while she ignores his stupidly good-looking face. "We don't say anything about Fairytales or curses or flying monkeys and wicked witches, got it?"

"As you wish…_Emma_." Her name sounds salacious on his lips.

She grits her teeth and scowls at him, but he merely grins wider. "Good to know some things never change." Her voice is dripping with sarcasm.

His expression softens and he catches her off guard when he reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ear. The backs of his fingers graze gently along her jaw and his eyes follow the movement before lifting to hers. It's like drowning in a depthless sea of blue and her heart squeezes at the things she sees reflected there, but for the first time since she'd released him from her embrace earlier, she feels steady and calm and _whole_. Absentmindedly her hand closes around his wrist, keeping him there, keeping him _with_ _her_.

"Aye," he agrees quietly.

_Fin_


	14. Bonfire Hearts

**Prompt **by Tumblr user gentlesleaze:

_**Was it you who was requesting fic prompts? I have one if you want: maybe a parallel to the 3x03 campfire scene in Neverland where Snowing & CS are sitting across from each other again, but this time Hook & Emma are cuddled up just like Snow and Charming were. If you're not taking prompts, it's ok. Just thought I'd offer this up since I think your writing is**** awesome!**_ (Posted to Tumblr March 9, 2014.)

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**Bonfire Hearts**

"You're late," she tells him as he swoops in and gives her a gentle peck on the mouth.

He smiles, his hand rubbing up and down her arm. "I know, apologies, I was slightly detained."

She doesn't like the mischievous look on his face and her eyes narrow suspiciously. "Oh yeah? With what?"

He shrugs nonchalantly then trails his hand all the way down to hers so he can tangle their fingers together. "Nothing special," he replies, tugging her in the direction of the bonfire burning further down the shore.

She's not convinced and her brow quirks at him as she falls into step beside him. "What's in the bag you're hiding behind your back?"

Killian brings their joined hands up and kisses the back of her hand before holding it over his heart. His lips tilt up softly as he looks at her. "Nothing."

Her sigh is heavy as she rolls her eyes at him but her expression is soft. "I told you not to get me anything."

He simply offers it to her and gives her an expectant look. Emma grumbles, releasing his hand to snatch the bag from him and peek inside. His hand falls automatically to the small of her back and out of habit, she inches closer so she's tucked into his side. It still amazes her how quickly and easily it was to fall into _this_ with him. It was like, the moment she decided to just open up her heart, she could _breathe_ — everything made sense, everything felt right, everything was exactly as it should be.

She laughs at what she sees then reaches in to produce one swan-shaped sugar cookie covered in a thick layer of white icing. "You're ridiculous," she tells him, stopping and turning towards him as she takes a bite.

"Happy Bir-"

"_Ah-ah-ah!_" she protests. "Don't. It's not my birthday, it's just another ordinary day with my family having a bonfire and making s'mores and eating cookies."

He chuckles lightly, hooks his thumb and hook into the belt loops of her jeans on either side of her hips, then draws her in close until their bodies bump. "Very well, then."

The warmth blooms instantaneously, the spark between them sending a delicious little jolt down her spine. Emma chews slowly, throat suddenly tight, and watches as his gaze flickers back and forth between her eyes and her lips. The smile tugging on the corners of his mouth is knowing and smug — he's such an _idiot_ — and she wants to smack it right off of his face but then he _licks his lips_ and Emma is all at once distracted and…_needy_. _Shit._

"Good?" he wonders, voice the epitome of innocence.

She swallows thickly, and nods her head. "Mmhmm." Lord but the man knew how to her stir her up.

"Are you going to share?" His voice is low, throaty.

Emma takes another bite, watches his dark blue eyes while she eats the cookie and shakes her head no.

"No?" He inches closer, mouth hovering over hers. "I'm…_famished_."

_Damn it_. She can feel the flush working up her neck and into her cheeks. "That _sucks_," she replies, slipping the cookie past her lips again and breaking off another little piece with her teeth.

His brow arches in amusement and he leans forward to nip lightly at her fingers until she's laughing and offering him a bite of the baked treat. He hums in approval and nods his head at her while he chews. Emma smiles, wiping the crumbs off his mouth with her free hand and he answers with the brush of his lips against hers. She's never considered herself an overly affectionate person, too much pain and loss in her earlier life to ever allow herself to be vulnerable in that way, but he makes it simple, _natural_, and when she kisses him back her heart feels light and steady.

"_Gross!_ Are you guys going to do that _all night_?" Henry shouts from his place beside the fire where he's roasting a marshmallow.

They pull away, smiling at each other like two lovesick puppies, and her hand finds his again as he sighs.

"If only," he murmurs.

"Later," she promises, taking the lead and walking the rest of the distance to the fire pit her family's set up for the night.

Snow smiles at him in greeting, waves the tiny hand of the toddler she's holding on her hip at him. He ruffles Henry's hair affectionately then moves to stand in front of her brother who claps excitedly and reaches for him. He pulls the squirming boy into his arms, mindful of his hook, and speaks to him in quiet, hushed tones. David claps him companionably on the back then grins at her as he hands her a skewered marshmallow.

It's so normal, so domestic, and Emma has no problem letting the rest of the world slip away. She's not the Savior, she's not waiting for the next shoe to drop and having to save all the happy endings from the next evil villain. She's just Emma Swan…daughter, sister, mother, _girlfriend_ — oh, _God_ — and she's perfectly okay with that.

It's a peaceful night full of laughter and jokes and stories and banter. It's precious, it's all so precious, and for a moment it's absolute perfection. She can't remember being like this in so long, being happy and surrounded by people she loves who love her back, and as the night stretches on, as children and adults grow heavy with sleep, she settles in between Killian's legs and leans back against his chest. His face is in her hair, lips brushing across her temple and she sighs as she watches her parents snuggled together, dozing, while her brother sleeps soundly on David's chest. Henry's head is in David's lap and he's out like a light too. It makes her smile, makes her wish she had a camera.

"You know what this reminds me of?"

The words are whispered against her ear and she turns her head slightly to look at him. "Hmm?"

"Neverland."

It's all he says, but the memory flashes into her — the four of them gathered around a fire, the sharp _plunk_ of his hook as he pokes a hole into a coconut, the hesitant way he offers it to her, the small smile on his lips when she takes it, the way his eyes burn into the side of her head, and the way she _can't_ look at him because his feelings are too much and she has to save her son and _shit_. It didn't help to see her parents — who have never had any qualms about PDA — seated in front of them, cuddling and being a unit while everything inside of her was being drawn to him as he sat beside her.

_Ohhh_. Her fingers twine with his and she smiles while her heart aches sweetly in her chest. He doesn't need to say the words, she understands him perfectly — _they're_ a unit now as well. The Pirate Captain and the Savior Princess — partners, True Loves, two halves of a whole.

"You gave me a coconut," she grins.

"Aye," he chuckles and kisses the tip of her nose. "So don't say I never gave you anything."

She leans forward to press her mouth to his tenderly. "You gave me a lot of things."

"I'd do it all again, you know."

She touches her forehead to his, eyes closing contentedly. "I know."

"I never thought we'd make it here. I _hoped_ but…" He shrugs as his words trail off.

She thinks about their journey, about all of the obstacles they've had to face, and while it makes her stomach clench at what else they might be coming for them, she knows they'll make it as long as they do it together.

"I hoped too," she tells him truthfully.

"You did?"

He sounds surprised and she chuckles lightly as she lifts her head again. There was no use lying to him, she was an open after all. "I did."

He kisses her again, a little firmer this time, and she laughs breathlessly. The silence that follows is comfortable and as they sit in their own little world, she moves her gaze over his face, memorizing every feature and curve and line in the flickering light of the fire.

"I have something for you," he says after awhile. "I know you said no presents but…I couldn't resist."

She sighs and rolls her eyes but sits up to give him space. When she turns her head to look at him, he's reaching back behind the log he was leaning against and comes up with a small gift bag dangling from his hook.

"Happy Birthday, Swan," he smiles.

Emma can't keep the corners of her lips from turning up as she takes it from him. What she sees when she peeks inside makes warmth spread through her entire body.

"You're an idiot," she murmurs, tears welling up behind her eyes.

"Henry told me that the day he found you, you'd made a wish that you didn't have to be alone on your birthday."

She reaches in and pulls out a perfectly decorated cupcake with a blue star candle sitting atop it, and when the first tear spills onto her cheek, he brushes it away before she even has the chance to think about it.

"Now that you're not, perhaps it's time to make a new wish."

She lifts her eyes to him and presses her lips together. "I don't need to make a new wish, everything that I want is right here." She reaches for him, fingers closing around the charms on the end of the chain around his neck and tugging him close. "Right here," she repeats before kissing him lovingly on the mouth.

His hand cradles the back of her head, holds her like she's precious to him, and her chest swells. This moment, while not the end, is _happy_ and it's all she could ever want for the rest of her life and well into their forever after.

_Fin_


	15. Why Would I Stay?

(Posted to Tumblr March 9, 2014.)

* * *

**Why Would I Stay?**

"There wasn't anything for me in the Enchanted Forest."

His eyes bore into hers and they're as deeply blue as she remembers them being, as openly familiar. It makes her chest ache, makes her stomach tighten and flip, but it's oddly comforting.

"Why would I stay?"

He asks the question pointedly, making the breath back up into her lungs as her mouth falls slightly open. She knows he's talking about her, she won't even try to deny it, but damn does it _hurt_. Her gaze falls to the glass in his hand as he offers her a toast and her vision swims around the edges — memories of him flashing into her, overwhelming her, consuming every inch of her rational mind.

_Until I met you._

_And I will win it._

_Perhaps._

_There's not a day will go by I won't think of you._

Her body jerks at his words, at her memories, but she's unsure of what she means to say and she hesitates as it all swirls around and around under the surface, threatening to bubble up and spew over and suffocate her. Somehow, she manages to hold it all in and eventually clicks her glass to his as she presses her lips together.

Their eyes meet for a split-second and it's _too much_ — what she sees there, what she _feels_ — she's going to fucking lose it. She can't afford to lose it, to breakdown, especially when he's sitting right there with all of his hope-filled eyes and unspoken promises of second chances and happily ever afters and forevers…so she averts her gaze as she lifts the tumbler to her lips and pushes it back, hiding behind the restored electric fences of her badly scarred heart.

Saviors don't get a day off, and they don't get normalcy or domesticity, but she can have this — she can have Hook with his friendship and complete understanding and ignore the part of her that _insists_ she wants _more_ (and she's definitely going to ignore the part of her heart that whispers that maybe she might want it with _him_)_._

_Fin_


	16. It Must Be True Love

**A/N:** Inspired by a lovely piece of artwork by fairytalesandtimetravel (my Tumblr url + post/79013843440/fairytalesandtimetravel-for-my-cs-secret) and emmaaswaan's enabling ;)

_**Will come a day Emma and Killian are going to exchange another true love kiss, one that will work, where Killian will cradle her head and Emma smile through the kiss, leaning against for another round, holding each other close, happy because it's over, the time they spent alone is over, they finally reached home, together, in each other eyes and arms. I have faith this day will come. and sooner than what we think.**_

* * *

**It Must Be True Love**

"_Emma!_"

She dimly hears her father's frantic roar amid the sounds of battle echoing around her as she races across the field. What she's doing is reckless and _absolutely_ dangerous — and she knows David's going to give her a shit-ton of grief over it later — but she also knows that if anybody's got her back, it's him. He'll make sure to cover her, he'll give her the chance she needs to get to Hook.

_God_. Her chest tightens at the thought and her emotions threaten to surge up and overwhelm her in their depth and magnitude but she forces it back. She can't think about that, she can't lose her focus now, not when they're _so close_. She needs to get to Hook, she just needs to get to him and she can deal with the rest later.

There's someone coming for her, she can sense it on her right side but she knows she'll lose time and ground if she tries to engage now so she keeps pushing for more speed, hoping she's quick and agile enough to simply outrun them. She hears the zing of an arrow, the sharp painful cry that follows and she smirks. _Robin. _Another potential attacker goes up in a flame of bright purple fire just to her left and her heart swells with hope. _Regina. _

The cavalry's here and they've all got her back. She's going to make it, she's going to get him back. She hangs on to that with everything inside of her, holds on desperately as her feet pound into the uneven terrain. Her side is cramped and her lungs feel like they're going to explode but she doesn't _care_. All she cares about is _him_, is Hook.

The first sight of him laying in the glass coffin jars her, makes the breath back up into her lungs and her heart feel like it's going to shatter. _No!_ _Oh God, oh God, oh God_! The tears come, she can't stop them anymore, and all she can see in her head is _him_ — the way he looks at her like she's everything, his stupid smirk, the ocean-blue of his eyes, those adorable little dents in his cheeks that frame his mouth.

She's near hysterical by the time she reaches him and she wastes no time shoving off the offending top of his prison. She's sobbing by then, breaths coming out in short, little puffs of air. _Oh GOD. _

"Hook!" she cries, hands everywhere — over his chest, down his arms, his face. _Oh God, oh God. _ He's real and here but cold, he's so _cold_ and his heart too _still_ and she can't _breathe_. "Hey, hey it's me. Come on, come on, wake up!"

She uses the last of her strength to pull him from his resting spot. She doesn't want him there any longer so she sits his lifeless form up, braces it against her as she grunts and groans and pulls to free him. She collapses to the ground under his weight and cradles him in her arms. She keeps talking to him, incoherent words that sound more like pleas than anything else.

Her heart aches, everything aches because it's _Hook_ and she just wants him back — wants him to give her those Godawful innuendos, and smile at her, and _be there_ for her like he's always been. She misses his laugh, his constancy, and the way he can look at her and just _know_ exactly what's on her mind.

"Hook, _please_," she begs, laying him gently on the ground and hovering over him. "You idiot, _come on!_" She shakes him lightly — vision blurry and breath short — and touches her forehead to his. "You told me you'd always come back for me, you stupid pirate! You don't get to do this okay? _Wake up!"_

She knows it doesn't work this way though, knows that only True Love's Kiss can break the curse — but he'd tried to kiss her before and it didn't _work_. The sob that escapes her mouth is the exact moment her heart shatters. She is the Goddamn _Savior_ and she couldn't stop this, she couldn't save him — the one person in her life who'd always put her above anything else, who'd loved her unconditionally across time and space.

_God_. She had to try, she owed it to him to at least _try_, didn't she? Her tears are rolling down her face, dripping onto his cheeks and it makes her cry harder. His voice and Henry's voice are screaming at her in her head — loud and confusing and suffocating — to trust her gut but the fear chokes her, doubt freezing her insides.

What if it doesn't work? _God_. What if it doesn't _work_?

She looks at him, hand smoothing back the unruly hair falling over his brow as her hands cup his cheeks and her eyes move across every familiar curve and line and dip of his face. "Hook," she murmurs brokenly. "_Killian_."

Something blooms in her chest then, unexpected and bright and warm and _beautiful_ and it's _so much_ that it steals the breath from her on a sharp gasp. She loves him. She _loves _him. She loves his tenacity and his stubbornness that rivals her own. She loves his kindness and his 'good form.' She loves his ridiculously attractive face and his insanely large capacity to love. She loves him.

She doesn't even hesitate when she lowers her mouth and presses her lips firmly against his. The rush of wind and light is _stunning_ and breathtaking and overwhelming as is the complete and utter joy that rises in her. Emma smiles through her tears, and waits for that first inhalation of breath from him. "Hook?" It never comes and her face falls in doubt as he continues to lay still beneath her. "Hook!" Panic starts to flutter in her stomach, it's heavy wings beating straight to the heart lodged in her throat. "No. No, no, _no_! _Hook!_"

She leans over him, her hair falling around them like a curtain, shielding them from the rest of the world, as the sorrow engulfs her and springs new tears to her battered heart and spills them through her red-rimmed eyes. She _loves_ him! It should have _worked_! Why didn't it _work_?

"I don't think it worked, love," his gruff voice replies suddenly, making her sit up in surprise. "Perhaps you should try it again." He peeks one eye open at her before his lips curve up into that infamous smirk she'll never tell him she adores. Her hand lashes out to hit his chest as she glares at him. He grimaces and his body jerks as his hand closes around her wrist. "Ow! Hey!"

"You're an _idiot_!" she shouts, relief coursing through her as he moves up onto his elbows. She hits him again for good measure with her free hand but he simply tugs her forward and crushes his mouth to hers.

The heat is immediate, the spark igniting between their joined hearts and linking them together. She resists only for a second then abruptly gives in and melts against him. _She loves him._ It's a truth and a fear and a hope and a strength and never in her entire life did she think she'd make it here, especially not with Captain Hook, but the world works in mysterious ways.

Her lips move beneath his in a well-known rhythm and everything falls into place — he is _safe_, he is _here_, and he is _hers_. He hums contentedly then pulls away briefly before going in and brushing his mouth over hers once more. She feels his smug little grin against her lips.

"I knew you loved me."

She gives something between a laugh and a sob before gripping onto the charms of his necklace and pulling him in for another kiss. She nods her head, comforted by the warmth and _life_ in him, overjoyed with happiness and…_love_.

"Yes, you stupid pirate, I love you."

Then her mouth is on his again and she uses him as her anchor while his hand reaches up to cradle the back of her head like she's precious — she sighs into him at the gesture. They'd found each other and saved each other and now they loved each other. It's over. It's finally over - the heartbreaking loneliness and the gut-wrenching pain and the bitterness in guarded, hardened hearts is all gone and healed with the acceptance of love.

She savors every little detail about the moment — cherishes the way their hearts beat in tandem, the way they fit like they are simply made for each other, and revels in the knowledge that _this_ is their happy ending, _this_ is their forever after. They've finally found _home_, together, in each other's eyes and arms and lips and it leaves the sweetest of aches in her heart.

_Fin_


	17. Dimpled Smiles

(Posted to Tumblr March 15, 2014.)

* * *

**Dimpled Smiles**

She rests over him, hand on chest and chin on hand while her fingertips brush lightly at the scruff on his jaw. She can feel his hand stroking slowly over the long line of her back all the way down to her hip before moving back up and tangling in the ends of her hair. She has the sneaking suspicion he's mapping her out, memorizing every curve and plane and dip of her body like coordinates on one of his star maps — the smile that tugs on the corner of her mouth suggests she doesn't mind.

"You're looking rather pleased with yourself, Sheriff Swan," he murmurs.

He looks sleepy, _sated_, and she is very, _very_ pleased. She doesn't respond though, just continues to smile and let her gaze drift across his too-handsome face. She knows every curve and plane and dip of that face, so she supposes they're even.

The silence is comfortable, as it always is, and she sighs contentedly when he turns his head to brush his lips over her fingers. "I _wrecked_ you," she grins smugly.

He laughs, eyes crinkling in the corners and dimples deepening. "Aye," he agrees, arms settling around her.

"You're welcome." Reflexively her finger strokes over the little dent near the corner of his mouth when his grin widens, her eyes fixated on the spot. "We match," she murmurs suddenly.

"Hmmm?"

She shifts over him, scooting up so that she's closer to him. Her hand cups his face, thumb smoothing against the indent etched charmingly in his cheek. "We match," she repeats.

"Match what?"

"Dimples."

His hand reaches up, his finger tracing over the tiny creases on either side of her mouth. He smiles again, expression soft and…_happy_. Then he leans up and lightly presses a gentle kiss to each one, making her heart squeeze sweetly in her chest. "It would seem so," he says against her mouth.

And suddenly he envelops her, wraps her up in warmth and love and _him_. She laughs as he flips them over and presses her firmly into the mattress, lips and hand trailing over quickly warming flesh — oh, he is _definitely_ mapping her out. Her hands wander over his shoulders, down his leanly muscled arms then along his sides before closing over his very shapely — if she does say so herself — derriere and squeezing.

She feels the chuckle against her skin before hearing his teasing voice. "_Emma Swan._"

When he lifts his head, she grins up at him, heart stumbling at the sight of his dimpled smile. "Yes?" she wonders innocently, unable to resist reaching up again to poke at the little dents once more.

His brow quirks at her in amusement. "I'll show you wrecked," he mutters before crushing his mouth to hers in another searing, heart-stopping kiss.

Oh, and he does, he _really_ does.

_Fin_


	18. My Girl

**A/N:** For firstbeanstalk and her lovely little headcanon. (Posted to Tumblr March 19, 2014.)

* * *

**My Girl**

She trudges in ahead of him, grumbling as she pushes open the door. She doesn't bother holding it open for him, simply crosses to the table to lay her sword down. Mary Margaret would throw a fit over the gesture if she were there, but Emma doesn't _care_. Every muscle in her body is so sore that she actually whimpers when she attempts to discard her jacket and they ache in protest at her movements.

His eyes are on her, as they've been since they stood in the field after an impromptu battle with the bitch Witch's monkeys. She knows he's upset, she can feel it rolling off of him in waves and _no,_ she doesn't feel bad about it in the slightest. Sure, it was touch and go there for a little bit but they'd still won, damn it. Granted, they hadn't come any closer to defeating the witch, but they'd managed to send those Godawful abominations to their graves and that was all that mattered to her. She'd take any little victory where she could get it.

When she feels him come up behind her, she sighs, already expecting the chastising. "Hook, don't-"

"Hush, love," he murmurs, his tone only biting a little.

And she does hush because his lack of temper surprises her, as does his hand and hook on the top of her jacket. He slides it from her shoulders and works it down her arms and _Jesus_, she's never felt so free.

"Thanks," she tells him, bracing against the table for support. His hand finds its ways to her hip and the gesture makes her freeze on a sharp inhalation of breath. She feels the touch of his forehead against her head and his warm breath near her ear.

"Are you alright?"

She swallows thickly and tries to ignore the little jolt that shoots down her spine. "Yeah," she nods.

He doesn't say anything, just squeezes his fingers lightly against her before exhaling deeply and releasing her. She hears the quiet click of his boots across the floor and when she turns her head over her shoulder, she sees him hanging up her jacket by the door. Heart squeezes in her chest — sweetly, painfully — because she's okay and she knows _that's_ the only thing that matters to _him_.

She sighs again, feeling guilty, feeling too much, and she just wants to lie down and go to sleep and not think about _anything_. She doesn't want to think about being the Savior, about the witch, about her parents, about Regina, about Henry, or Neal, or…_Hook_. She just needs a Goddamn break for _one_ evening.

Eventually her feet carry her towards the couch and she collapses on the end of it, exhaustion seeping into her bones. She rests her head back and closes her eyes, drifting in and out the edges of sleep. It's Killian's tired groan as he stretches and the feel of the couch dipping under his body along with the weight of his head in her lap, that snaps her back into consciousness.

Her body stills as she lifts her head up and gazes down at him in annoyance. "_Really?_" There's a ghost of a smirk on his lips but his eyes are closed like he intends on just using her as a human pillow and _really_? If he didn't look so damn peaceful and _handsome_, she'd simply solve the matter by shoving him off of the couch.

"Have a heart, Swan," he sighs. "It's been a rough day."

She opens her mouth to argue, but she remembers the way he'd screamed her name as a monkey ambushed her from behind and came straight for her, and how he'd rushed over with David to check on her after Robin had taken it down with a single arrow to the heart, and how his blue eyes had been so bright with fear and anger. She draws her lower lip into her mouth, chewing on it as she studies the plains of his weary face while guilt eats away at her resolve, then she simply just drops her head back onto the back of the sofa.

"Whatever…I'm too tired to care," she says, using that as her excuse. "I feel like we've been running in circles these past few days."

It takes him so long to reply, for a minute she thinks he's fallen asleep already, but then his quiet, _sure_ voice drifts around them. "We'll beat her, Swan."

She believes him, with everything inside of her she believes him. He's always been so confident in her, in her capabilities, and while she doesn't have to do this fight alone, at the end of the day it's still _her_ fight. She is the Savior and she was meant to break the curse, but it doesn't hurt having his unwavering faith in her. Not that she'd ever tell him as much.

"I know," she murmurs simply, and a smile tugs on the corners of her mouth as her hand absentmindedly falls onto his stomach — it feels comfortable and…_right -_ that is, if she allows herself to indulge for a moment. "And I'm going to enjoy every second of it."

He chuckles softly, the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating into her hand. "That's my girl."

Her fingers close around the charms of his necklace at his words — his sweet words that leave a sweet ache in her heart — and she hangs on, using him as an anchor. She doesn't even flinch at the touch of his fingertips across her knuckles, just sighs one more time and allows her body to relax again as his hand fully rests over hers. There is nothing else anymore, just him and her and this moment and the curl of his fingers into her palm while his thumb smoothes back and forth across the top of her hand. Eventually she drifts away into a dreamless sleep with the comforting touch of a caring man and the smell of sea and leather soothing her tired soul.

_Fin_


	19. Snowflakes

**A/N:** Inspired by the snowflakes in Killian and Emma's hair from 3.13 Witch Hunt. It is so cute okay. (Pre-3.14, absolutely speculative at the time. Posted to Tumblr March 22, 2014.)

* * *

**Snowflakes**

She's brooding and restless, pacing back and forth along the edges of the camp with her sword in hand. It has nothing to do with the fact that the hunting party that had left earlier in the morning still isn't back, nothing at all to do with the fact that _Hook_ was part of the group, or that he hadn't even bothered to _tell_ her he was leaving. Stupid pirate.

They've been camped out in the deepest part of the woods for days - with the town no longer safe, it was really their only option, but even with Regina's protective spell encasing the area and her own added magic over that, it weighs heavily on the Savior's shoulders. They could be ambushed from all sides over one simple mistake as leaving the safety of the camp and it could go so far south in a matter of minutes. It's not like they don't have enough provisions, her parents had made sure of that. She doesn't understand why they need to go, why _he_ needs to go, and risk his- _their_ lives over something so insignificant and _stupid_ and-

The cheers that erupt snap her from her thoughts and the relief that courses through her body at the first sight of his dark hair and grinning face as he comes in behind Robin is so abrupt that it leaves her head spinning and makes her vision blur just a bit around the edges. Her father claps him companionably on the back and offers him an open bottle of water. They chat comfortably, like the best of _mates_ — all smiles and handsome faces she'd never admit she adores and she _seethes_.

Nevermind that she's been worrying her ass off all morning, nevermind that she's the Savior and she's supposed to keep these people safe, nevermind that-

Their eyes meet across the space — sea blue against jade green — and hold for a few moments before he actually has the _nerve_ to let his expression soften and his lips curve up at her. Her heart stutters in her chest but she ignores it, instead rolling her eyes and stomping off in the opposite direction. It doesn't take him long to catch up to her and the sound of his heavy footsteps only further annoys her.

"Good morning to you too, sunshine," he greets.

"Go away," she snaps.

"I see someone's woken on the wrong side of the bed-"

"_Go away_, Hook."

"Alright, I'm going to take a _wild_ guess here, but it seems I've done something to upset you."

"It's nothing," she insists, gritting her teeth. "I'm _fine_."

"Well obviously it's _something_ if you've murder in your eyes and a sharp tongue for me." His fingers close around her arm and pull her to a stop. "What the bloody hell is it, love?"

She rolls her eyes and sighs at him, at the snowflakes in his hair and his ridiculous puppy face. "It's _nothing_. Just…forget it." But she can't stop the images that flash into her mind — him fighting, him wounded, him bleeding, him _dying_. It frightens her, the fear backing the breath up into her lungs and she reacts before she can think about it, ripping her arm from his grasp and poking a finger roughly into his chest. "Good to see your face didn't get clawed off by a flying monkey."

His brow pinches and his eyes narrow as he studies her, gaze flickering back and forth between her finger and her. His eyes bore into hers and she moves agitatedly from foot to foot. He sees too much — he always sees far too much and she knows the minute he understands because the corners of his mouth tug up smugly while the edges of his eyes crinkle with the smile.

"You were worried about me." It's a statement, not a question, and his tone - though a little self-satisfied - is definitely full of glee.

She wants to crawl into a hole and die of embarrassment, instead she tries to push past him so he doesn't see the heat in her cheeks, but his hand catches her wrist and tugs her back. "I worry about everyone," she snaps, trying to remove herself from his firm grip once more. "I'm the Savior."

He chuckles and his grin widens — _idiot_ — as he inches closer to her. Her fingers itch with the desire to smack him but she restrains herself, standing her ground and fixing a scowl on her face. She realizes his intent half a second too late because by the time she figures she should have shoved him away, he's already wrapping his arms around her and warming her with his embrace.

Her body tenses up and she resists, squirming to get out of his hold and practically snarling at him. His grip is firm though, insistent and unrelenting, and after one last final _thump_ of her fist to his chest, she finally just gives up and lets him hug her. She sighs, her chin on his shoulder and her hands pressed against his sides. She doesn't draw him in - refuses to - but neither does she push him away.

"You didn't even say anything," she mutters sourly.

"You were sleeping," he replies simply.

"So?" The tears prick at her eyes, she has no idea where they come from — or so she tells herself — and she has to press her lips together to keep her emotions in check.

He rests the side of his face against her head and strokes his hand soothingly up and down her back. "I didn't want to wake you, you don't sleep enough as it is."

She swallows thickly, wants to yell at him about 'what ifs' and 'could haves' but she _can't_ because then that would mean opening up the floor for a whole _other_ discussion and she just _can't _— not now, not when they're in the middle of a war. Instead she closes her eyes and finds comfort in the steady rise and fall of his chest against hers. He's alive and he's safe and he's _here_.

"I'm more than capable of handling a couple of winged primates, darling," he says a minute later.

"That's not the _point_." She exhales heavily and tries to find the right words but knows that whichever way she says it, she's going to be revealing a whole lot of everything she's been trying to avoid.

"I assumed you'd have figured it out by now," he says quietly. "I'll always come back for you, Swan."

Leave it to him to just _know_ her thoughts so perfectly, leave it to him to melt her heart with seven simple words, leave it to him to make her want things she shouldn't be wanting. She makes some noise of distress and angles her head to press her face into his neck. "Hook-"

"You've snowflakes in your hair," he interrupts, his tone soft.

She knows he changes the subject for her benefit and her heart squeezes sweetly in her chest. "So do you," she answers.

She indulges just for a little longer, imagining that maybe in a different life, in a different story, she could have had him — _this_— without all the other complications and she aches all over.

"Hook?"

"Hmm?"

"Next time…can you just…"

"Tell you?" He finishes when she can't, chuckling lightly. "Aye…as you wish, love."

His lips rest against her shoulder and for the first time all morning, Emma allows herself to breathe easy.

_Fin_


	20. Killian

**A/N:** Just a short little, fluffy something inspired by that gorgeous black and white picture of Colin that Josh took and posted on Twitter :)) Wasn't going to post this but the-lady-swan is an enabler. (Posted to Tumblr March 27, 2014.)

* * *

**Killian**

She's sitting in a booth at Granny's working on a mug of hot chocolate when Henry slides in across from her, dropping his backpack on the ground. She freezes, hand halfway to mouth, while her brow quirks at the serious expression on his face.

"Hi," she says.

"I have a bone to pick with you."

That makes her brows arch even higher. "Excuse me?"

He sets his camera on the table, holding it between his hands while he glares at her. "What are you doing, Mom?"

"I'm…having a cup of cocoa," she says slowly, utterly confused. "What are _you_ doing?"

Henry doesn't answer, simply exhales exasperatedly as he turns his camera on. She watches the look of intense concentration on his face while he thumbs through the pictures on there and her interest is piqued. He pauses when he reaches the one he's been searching for, studying it carefully before nodding once and offering it to her with the screen still facing him.

Emma's lips are pursed in thought but her curiosity gets the best of her and eventually she sets her mug down to see what exactly it is he wants her to look at. A quiet gasp leaves her lips as her mouth falls open slightly. She is completely unprepared to see a close-up photograph of Hook — expression soft, hint of a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth, eyes intently focused on something. The photograph is in black and white, the light illuminating one side of his face and shadowing the other. He's a face made for the camera — not that she'd ever say as much — but she sighs while she memorizes the picture, finger tracing over the screen where the tiny crease in his brow is.

"I don't…" She shakes her head, lifting her eyes to her son, who is now staring at her with an unamused expression on his face. "I don't understand."

Henry crosses his arms and sits back in his seat. "Do you know what he was looking at when I took that picture?"

Her mouth opens and closes while she contemplates a reply but her son beats her to it.

"_You_. You laughed at something Gramps said and he turned around to look at you."

_Ohh_. She sees it now that Henry's forced her to, the affection and the reverence and the…_other thing_ she's been stubbornly refusing to acknowledge.

"Just thought it was something you'd be interested in," Henry continues with a seemingly nonchalant shrug.

Her eyes widen as she gapes at him, unsure of what to say or how to feel as her emotions abruptly well up and bombard her. "Henry-"

"_Mom_. It's _okay_. I promise it'll be okay. Stop making it hard, it's not hard. It's actually really simple." His hazel eyes bore into hers — holding, encouraging, smiling — until eventually he just grins and takes the camera back from her. "I have to go, I told Roland I'd take him to my castle." Henry gets up and kisses the top of her head. "I love you but you're stubborn, moreso than Gramps and that's saying _a lot_. Stop being stubborn," he mutters. "He loves you."

She watches, dazed, as he leaves then sits for a long time after staring at her cocoa. Hook finds her like that — hands wrapped around the mug, eyes glazed over — and he frowns as he eases in beside her (like it's the most natural thing in the world, like there wasn't a perfectly empty booth right across from her).

"You alright, love?"

She can feel his warmth from his nearness as her eyes lift to his. They hold steady when they meet and her heart stutters a little in her chest at the myriad of things she sees in there. She swallows thickly and presses her lips together, looking away only when Ruby comes by to set down a mug for him. He takes a sip of the hot chocolate, smearing whip cream on the corner of his mouth and she can't help the chuckle that escapes. Reflexively, she reaches forward to wipe it away and stills when their gazes find each other again. She lingers when she knows she shouldn't, lingers even when his eyes move down to her lips. He doesn't move for her, but she knows he wants to. Her heart squeezes again as she smiles softly; it's hard to resist the undeniable pull between them.

"Yeah," she murmurs, easing away. "Henry just came by to…show me something."

He hums in thought but doesn't comment, instead raising his mug for another sip, staring at her over the rim. It's the same look, the same look that was in Henry's picture — _God —_ and Emma's stomach clenches as her son's words resound in her head.

_Stop making it hard, it's not hard. It's actually really simple_.

When he sets the mug down, she rolls her eyes and focuses in on the whip cream he's managed to get on his mustache. "Can't keep that stuff off your face, can you?" His grin is boyish, makes his eyes crinkle around the edges, and Emma inhales deeply as she cleans the it off of him again, indulging for just a moment and stroking her thumb over the dimple in his cheek.

"Gets your hands on me, doesn't it?"

She gives him a bland stare when his eyebrows wiggle at her, turning back to her drink and away from him, but before she can have another sip, he clinks their mugs together companionably. His shoulder brushes against hers as he settles in and for some reason, there's something about the way the leather of his favored outfit rustles that makes her want to laugh. She smiles into her hot chocolate instead. The silence that envelops them is comfortable and she finds herself sighing contentedly.

Maybe Henry was right, maybe it really was simple.

_Fin_


	21. Let Me, Just Let Me

**Prompt** by Tumblr user alyssajillene:

_**CS SMUT! I HAVE A MIGHTY NEED**_

**A/N**: Rated M for obvious reasons LOL (Posted to Tumblr March 29, 2014.)

* * *

**Let Me, Just Let Me**

He takes her almost lazily as the dawn breaks, lips moving tenderly against hers while the rise and fall of his body matches the gentle rhythm of the waves lapping at the ship. It's too much, it's always too much this way — too sweet, too intimate, too loving. Her heart is lodged into her throat as she hovers poised over that beautiful, terrifying edge and when he bumps his nose affectionately against hers, when he pulls back to look at her with soft eyes and a soft smile, tears spring into her eyes.

"Let go," he whispers. "Let go. Let me love you."

Her release hits her then, makes her gasp as everything around her shatters into a thousand points of golden light and her body arches into him. It's stunning, it's overwhelming and all she can do is ground herself in his eyes. She focuses on what she sees there, allows the warmth to wash over her and consume her as she rides through the pleasure.

He kisses the tears from her cheeks. "I love you. I love you," he says.

He hasn't stopped moving, keeps her steeped in him before he picks up his pace. She whimpers, shaking her head in protest, but her hips meet his stroke for stroke. He wants it from her again, wants her to take that fall again and she's not sure if she'll survive this time around. The emotion wells up — everything she feels for him, everything she would never admit out loud — and she chokes on it, a sob escaping her lips. Her nails dig into his biceps and she tilts her head back while her mouth seeks his. _God. _She needs him, she needs him so much.

They groan in unison, his thrusts becoming more frantic and erratic as he takes them through the climb. It builds and builds and just when Emma thinks she can't _stand it_, she hits that crest. He swallows her cry, tongue tangling with hers while her body stiffens, coiling with trembling tension as she clings to him. He follows after her just moments later, her name spilling from his mouth like a benediction and it is _everything_.

_Fin_


	22. Bruises

**A/N:** Post Neal's death. (Posted to Tumblr March 31, 2014.)

* * *

**Bruises**

_These bruises make for better conversation  
__Loses the vibe that separates  
__It's good to let you in again  
__You're not alone in how you've been  
__Everybody loses, we all got bruises_

_._

_._

_._

She's so numb, body cold and heart shattered and shoulders heavy. Her eyes remain red and puffy from her tears, even long after they've subsided. She swallows thickly, the cool breeze on the shore stealing her warmth, and she has the fleeting thought that the price of being the Savior wasn't that she never got a day off, it was that she kept losing people she cared about.

Her chest tightens and she forces back the emotions threatening to well up, reminding herself to breathe through it — just breathe, she can get through anything if she just _breathes_. She happens to glance up at that exact moment, stopping when she sees his dark form seated on a bench that over looks the water. He head is bowed, handsome face solemn and pale against the black leather and hair atop his head.

Her heart aches, constricting painfully as she studies him. It's too much, it's too damn much. She's always felt too much for him, perhaps she always would, but between recent events and all of the Goddamn _shit_ in her head, she doesn't want to. Not today, not right now, maybe not ever.

It's all there, simmering under the surface, bubbling and ready to spew over in her emotional state, but she fights it back. She doesn't want to think about everything he's done for her or his feelings or his tenacity or his persistence or his fucking huge heart and endless capacity to lov-…_feel_. She doesn't want to think of what Neal meant to him or how he's hurting or how he's doing. She absolutely _refuses_ think about what he means to _her_, or what she feels about him. She doesn't want to think of the way Neal made her promise to be _happy_, to find _Tallahassee_.

She just wants to go, wants to run away and forget and ignore and just be a _normal_ human being for two fucking seconds instead of this shell of a person, broken and hurting and so _scared _and- He glances up, gaze shooting something warm and electric down her spine even from this distance. It's so strange because her body abruptly calms, stills and relaxes against her raging thoughts, and even when she knows she should turn around and leave them to their own grief, that undeniable connection between them still draws her the opposite way — towards _him_.

The closer she gets, the bluer his eyes become, the pain and sorrow more apparent. It makes the tears spring behind her eyes and she has to blink and press her lips together in order to push them back as she sits beside him, shoulders, arms and legs brushing against the small confines of the bench.

"Hey," she mumbles softly.

He doesn't answer, simply offers her a sullen, tired smile. She looks away, unable to stand his emotions and her own, and doesn't bother wiping away the tear that escapes onto her cheek.

"You okay?" she wonders politely — she already knows the answer though.

"No," he tells her honestly, simply.

The dam breaks at his confession — it perfectly sums up her own feelings — and her face twists as her lower lips trembles and she sniffles. She'll never know why she does it — maybe it's the heightened emotional stress, maybe it's because she just needs someone who understands _perfectly_, maybe because it's _him_ — but she tips her head onto his shoulder and closes her eyes.

"Me either," she replies.

"We will be." His voice is soft, broken and hurt maybe, but so steady and sure.

She needs to hear that, needs his strength and confidence when hers are severely lacking at the moment. She needs _him_ she realizes, this scarred and kind and loving man, she needs him — perhaps just as badly as he needs her.

She chokes on a sob, connecting with him through their feelings for each other, through their odd and intricately weaved relation, through their shared pain and loss and love of someone who in the end had sacrificed everything for hers and Henry's, and ultimately _everyone's_, happiness. Emma turns her face into him, forehead resting against his shoulder, and just _lets go_.

Her body trembles beside him, shoulders heaving as she expels her grief and frustration and misery, and leans on him for his unwavering support. He doesn't try to coddle her, simply moves his arm across her lap so his hand falls to the outside of her leg and holds her against him. His touch is warm, comforting and soothing against the cold and numbness. She feels the press of his lips atop her head and her hands close around his arm, needing an anchor.

_We will be_.

Her heart squeezes in her chest once more and she believes him.

_Fin_


	23. A Little Fall of Rain

**A/N:** Written when the promo stills from Neal's funeral were released, prior to the episode. (Posted to Tumblr April 1, 2014.)

* * *

**A Little Fall of Rain**

_I don't feel any pain_  
_A little fall of rain_  
_Can hardly hurt me now_  
_You're here_  
_That's all I need to know_  
_And you will keep me safe_  
_And you will keep me close_  
_And rain_  
_Will make the flowers grow_

.

.

She's the last to say goodbye, gripping the shovel and scooping up dirt before releasing it into Baelfire's- _Neal's_ final resting place. Her hands shake only a little as she goes about the task and his heart tightens in his chest, aching for her. So strong, the Savior…so brave, his Swan.

When she turns back around, he sees her hand is clutched around the Swan pendant on her necklace. He remembers it from the beanstalk, how it hung ironically around her neck. It disappeared for a time — another detail he'd noticed — but now it was back, resting above her heart. Instinctively he knows it's tied to Neal and it hurts him for a myriad of reasons, many of which he's simply too exhausted and pained over to address.

Instead he focuses on her, their eyes meeting across the space before his roam her features — the stiff set of her jaw, the frown creasing her brow, the dark circles under her eyes. He wants to run his fingertips across her face, wants to soothe away the evidence of her grief before wrapping her up his embrace and just hanging _on_.

He doesn't move though, simply continues to study her while she takes her place beside him and pulls Henry into her side. He hears the slight hitch in her breath and his body angles in reflex towards hers. When her body suddenly sways, he's there, stepping closer and grasping her elbow firmly.

"I've got you," he murmurs under his breath, loud enough only for her to hear.

Her body trembles lightly and he can feel her fighting back her emotions, trying so hard to keep it together and his heart squeezes in his chest. He sends her his strength, his support, his _love_ and hopes it will help to ease some of the weight on her shoulders.

"I've got you, love," he repeats.

She doesn't look at him, but he's paying close enough attention to her that he sees the slight nod of her head in acknowledgement. The knot lodged just under his breastbone loosens a little when she shifts her weight and presses her side into his. He gives her elbow a gentle squeeze.

_I'm here._

_You're safe._

_I've got you._

_Fin_

* * *

**P.S.** I listened to 'A Little Fall of Rain' from Les Mis yesterday when I was trying to find a song from a musical to use for a routine and then this happened in my head and I cried T-T


	24. Scratch and Burn

**A/N:** Rated M. Written in response to the first filming pics of CS in their new outfits for the Season finale. Tumblr user: ohmyohpioneer + Prompt: _**Straw on her cloak…Killian as a carriage driver, tending to horses…I mean, they both seem to have occasion to be in a barn… Who's going to write it, hmmmmm?**_ + Smut = Oops (Posted to Tumblr April 6, 2014.)

* * *

**Scratch and Burn**

He walks her back into the stall, mouth busy at her neck while his hands mold her body.

"We can't," she gasps, fingers tightening on the lapels of his stupid caramel-colored coat when his teeth graze over the curve of her neck where it meets her shoulder.

He chuckles lightly, ignoring her protests and easing her down into a pile of hay. "Oh, but we can."

"We shouldn't," she insists, but her hands are tangling in his hair, her mouth tipped up invitingly towards him.

He nods and she feels his smile against her lips. "Oh, we most certainly should."

Emma matches his grin, sighing as she gives up and then it's all heat, all eager hands and hungry mouths and pent-up desire. His hands — both of them, _sweet Jesus_ — curl into the edge of her skirt, drawing it up slowly as his fingertips brush along the warming flesh and his body settles between her legs. His tongues traces the seam of her lips, seeking entrance and she moans when she opens her mouth more fully and his tongue strokes insistently against hers.

One of his hands moves up higher, caressing her hip, but he stills abruptly when he is met with soft, bare skin. He pulls away, blue eyes darkened by want as he stares down at her in confusion. Fingers move experimentally and she watches in amusement when his brow quirks at her.

"You've no undergarments," he says.

The bewilderment in his tone makes her laugh as she winds her arms around his neck. "It seems they didn't make it over when we crossed the time continuum."

His thumb drags roughly over her clit and she gasps, body arching into him as stars dance on the edges of her vision.

"Pity," he smirks, and his fingers abruptly slide into her wet heat.

Emma whimpers, rocking her hips against his hand while her nails bite into his biceps and she gives herself over to him. "Abso-" _Oh God. _"_Lutely._"

_Fin_


	25. Hallways

**A/N:** Just a little addition to the CS hallway scene (3.16 It's Not Easy Being Green) after Emma picks up Henry from spending the day with Killian out on the boat :) (Posted to Tumblr April 7, 2014.)

* * *

**Hallways**

When she trudges into Granny's for the night, she wants nothing more than a glass of wine and a hot bath. She's exhausted, but her mind won't shut off, endlessly racing with thoughts of magic and wicked witches and how the _fuck_ she was going to protect what was hers. Panic threatens to twist her stomach in knots, but she fights it back because there's simply no time for it. She has to stay focused, has to stay strong, and-

Her musings abruptly cut out as she approaches Hook's door and her brow furrows thoughtfully. She can hear them through the wood — chattering, the occasional amused laugh, the lively tones of their voices…it's what pushes her to reach out and gently twist the knob to open the door.

They're on the far end of the room, seated at the small table by the window with a board game in front of them. She sees Henry's smile first, watches the way he gestures at one of the pieces and explains something to Hook. Then she sees Hook's answering grin, both cheeky and amused, and judging by the laugh that escapes her son, he's said something absurd and entertaining.

Her heart stutters in her chest before clenching so tight she can't _breathe_. It's such a simple thing, them having what appears to be a game night, but she clutches desperately at the image, tucks it away deep into her memory, into her _heart_, to keep it safe. She doesn't realize how badly she needed _this_ — this sense of normalcy and peace in the shit-storm that is her life — until this moment.

Emma leans against the threshold, resting her head to the frame as she continues to watch them. Her stomach flips at Hook's chuckle and the way his dimples flash in his cheeks when he reaches out to ruffle Henry's hair. Henry rolls his eyes, shoving at the older man's hand but smirking nonetheless. She feels like she's on the edge of something fantastical — teetering on the brink with her tumultuous terror and innermost desires — and she wants to _let go_, wants to give in to her heart, but when they both turn their eyes towards her — one pair of hazel, one pair of blue — she feels herself swallow thickly and retreat back into her shell.

"Hey," she says softly, the corners of her mouth tipping up as she sighs. Her gaze lingers on Hook and she swallows thickly — it was dangerous for the Savior to want too much.

"Mom," Henry greets, standing up from his seat. "How'd it go?"

"It went," she answer vaguely, and she wonders how tired she looks. "You ready for bed?"

He glances at Killian, gives him another smile before he leaves to retrieve his backpack and Emma's heart lodges into her throat. They seem to have built some sort of rapport already in the short time that they were together — it's something she'll come back to later, when Hook's not walking over to her with soft eyes and a soft smile. She shifts nervously at his proximity, fingers tightening on the knob of the door. He's close enough that she can smell the sea on him and her head spins at the combination of that plus the leather and spice so distinctly his scent. He smells of comfort and peace and…_home_.

"Did he behave today?" she asks lightly, latching on to the blue of his eyes even in the dim lighting of the room.

"He's a monster, your lad," he replies, completely straight-faced. "Almost made him walk the plank. Twice."

She smiles despite herself then feels the heat creep up her neck and into her cheeks when he smiles back — smug and cheerful that he could do that for her. She clears her throat as Henry approaches, hand briefly settling on his shoulder to anchor herself to something.

"Say goodnight to Killian," she tells him, easing out into the hallway to give them space.

"Thanks, Killian," Henry grins. "Maybe we can go out on your boat again sometime."

"Anytime, lad," he replies, making Emma go warm and soft at the obvious affection on his face for her son.

She touches Henry again when he passes by her, smiling as she glances over her shoulder to watch him go inside. When she turns back to Hook, her arms cross over her chest — she recognizes it as a defensive move, one of self-preservation.

"How'd the Queen fare against the Witch?"

His voice is a little hard around the edges, reminding her that not everything is sunshine and rainbows and board games and boat trips. "She survived," she answers. "But the rest is definitely more than a doorway conversation."

Her words sound like an invitation to her ears, a promise that she'll discuss everything with him — confide in him, allow him to bear some of the weight — later. He nods in understanding before his eyes flicker back to Henry and where he's unpacking his belongings.

"Thank you for taking him," she says, hoping he can hear the sincerity in her voice and how much the gesture had meant to her. His eyes hold hers steadily and she has the fleeting thought that someone could drown in the bright blue if they weren't careful.

"There's more Bae in your boy than you realize," he speaks quietly, truthfully, and Emma's heart squeezes in her chest as she too looks over at Henry once more. "He needs to know about his father, Emma. You can't just take him back to New York when this is over and pretend none of this is real."

Emma's arms tighten around herself, his words and his perceptiveness stinging, but she brushes the thoughts away, not ready or willing to deal with them just yet. "Thanks again," she says simply, turning her gaze back to him.

She sees the myriad of emotions there and it's too much, it's always _too much_. She gives him an apologetic look, retreating into the safety of her room when it becomes unbearable. The barrier clicks shut before she can get another look at him, but as Emma leans back against the door, she can clearly see him standing there in her mind — waiting, always waiting…wanting, hoping, _loving_.

Her head rests back onto the wood and it's not until she hears the soft shuffle of his feet back to his own quarters that she exhales the breath she's been holding. She knows she's close, so close to giving in and tumbling into the scary and vast unknown of what's between them. She presses her lips together, fighting to keep her emotions in.

She wants to tell him she's a lost cause, but as she pushes off the door to settle in for the night, her heart whispers the words she's not sure she'll ever have the courage to say to him — _hold on_.

For just a little longer, _hold on_.

_Fin_


	26. Double Trouble

**A/N:** Inspired by Tumblr user scoundrelhook:

_**okay but wouldn't it be the greatest thing ever if hook got the news that emma's family was in trouble from a mysterious knight with the charming family crest on his armor who wouldn't take his helmet off and then killian goes off on his merry way to sell the jolly for a way to get to emma or whatever then the camera pans back to the knight and we see him taking off his helmet and it's future!killian**_

the-lady-swan, this one's for you :3 (Posted to Tumblr April 7, 2014.)

* * *

**Double Trouble**

"Stop being a prat and just take the bloody potion." The mysterious knight sighs exasperatedly, accented voice muffled by the helmet he won't remove. He holds the vial out to him.

Killian stares at it suspiciously, eyes flickering back and forth between the small purple bottle and the armored man before him. "Why should I trust you?" he wonders. "Why should I believe anything you say."

He chuckles and it's so strangely familiar that the hairs on the back of Killian's neck stand on end. The knight shrugs, a quick lift of the shoulders combined with a slight tilt of the head. That's familiar too.

"Just think of me as an old friend," he replies. "Take a leap of faith, mate. You want to be a hero, don't you? Save your Savior?"

There's something about the way he says it, almost tauntingly, that has Killian's brows furrowing in thought. "Have we…have we met before?"

He snorts lightly in response but ignores the question. "Look, I'm on borrowed time and you're wasting an _egregious_ amount of it."

Killian scowls. For an 'old friend' he's a bit of an ass.

"Do you want to save Emma or not, Captain?" He moves forward, armor clanking with each step, and dangles the bottle in front of his face. "This will restore her memories. You can have her back if you wish it. The choice is yours."

He thinks of the year without her…thinks of his pain and his hopelessness, how lost he'd been. Then he remembers her, everything about her — the sunshine in her hair, the jade and flecks of gold in her eyes, the rare smiles only for him, the pure, blissful warmth of her, the taste and touch and scent of her so wonderfully, distinctly _Emma_. It couldn't be that easy, could it? To have her back? His light, his stubborn lass, his Emma. It couldn't be as simple as accepting a mysterious potion from a mysterious knight.

"All magic comes with a price," he answers. "What's yours?"

"I've no price." He doesn't offer anymore than that.

"That doesn't make any sense. What do you get out of helping me bring back Swan?"

He chuckles again, takes a breath as if he means to say something but then suddenly changes his mind. Instead he sighs and gives up, pressing the bottle into his hand anyway. "There are an endless number of things you don't yet understand, Killian, and perhaps…maybe you never will, but you know, in the deepest part of you, in your very heart, that the Savior is the key. She has been tasked with the unfortunate weight of the world, and _you_, my boy…have been tasked with this — to be the Savior's savior. Find Emma. Restore her memories. Bring her home. You can thank me later."

His brow pinches as he stares at the vial, hope sparking bright and hot in heart for the first time in over 365 days. He doesn't know this man, doesn't know his motives or any of that sort, but instinctively…somehow, he knows he speaks the truth. He can trust him, he can believe him. A lump lodges itself into his throat and his fingers curl around the potion, holding on tightly, protectively.

"If this is some sort of trick," Killian warns anyway. "There will be no place in all the realms for you to hide from me."

"_Oooh_," he taunts, and Killian can practically see him rolling his eyes. "Shaking in my bootstraps, I am! Threatened by the nefarious Captain Hook! Why, I feel so honored!"

Definitely an ass. "How do I get back? To the land without magic?"

"I've no clue," he replies shortly. "Do I look like a bloody genie? All I came to do was to give you the potion and the message. The rest, _pirate-_" He says it almost affectionately — _almost_. "Is up to you."

He shoos him with a wave of his hand and Killian's teeth grit in annoyance. "Bloody help you are," he mumbles.

"Hey, you were the one who wanted to be a hero, and you just had to go and fall in love with the Savior in the process, didn't you?"

"What?" His eyes nearly pop out of his head. "I'm not- I never- Emma's just-"

"'_Emma's just_,'" the knight mimics. "You think me daft? A deaf, blind mute would know it simply by standing next to you."

The heat crawls up Killian's neck, rising into his cheeks and he all but snarls. "It's a nuisance, you are!"

"Alright, look," the other man concedes finally, realizing that they'd get nowhere so long as they continued to bicker. He holds his hands up in a gesture of peace. "I won't lie to you. The path you're to embark on is not going to be all rainbows and unicorn kisses. It's going to be hard, but most things in life that are worth it are. Now go." He gestures towards the direction of the sea. "You've been without long enough."

He has so many questions reeling around in his head, so many feelings swirling in his heart, but the one most prominent is _Emma_. He studies the knight for a moment longer, gives in to the absurd thought that he absolutely cannot _believe_ he's trusting this man, then with a brief and final nod, takes off towards north. It's fitting now that he thinks about it, because Emma's always been his hope, a sailor's guiding light, his True North. He's going to do this. He's going to find her and bring her home, all else be damned.

What Killian fails to see when he turns to leave is the way the knight's gaze lingers after him. He misses the pull of his helmet, the slight toss of his head of unruly dark hair, the smirk on his face that matches Killian's _exactly_ and the amusement dancing in his _same_ sea-blue eyes. He doesn't hear the quiet chuckle or the wistful sigh or see the affectionate expression on his face. He fails to hear the knight's softly spoken words.

"Godspeed, mate...with our stubborn lass, you'll need it." He grins then, the dimples in his cheeks — the ones Emma so adores kissing and stroking — winking. "Do give her a kiss for us," he says as an afterthought, laughing when he remembers the way she had taken her knee to the most sensitive part of his anatomy upon their reunion.

_Fin_


	27. I Spy With My Little Eye

**Prompt** by Anonymous: _**Killian watching Emma with his spyglass **_

**A/N:** From the promo for 3.17 The Jolly Roger. (Posted to Tumblr April 11, 2014.)

* * *

**I Spy With My Little Eye**

"_Seriously?_" she asks, voice mildly irritated.

He whirls, a string of foul curses leaving his lips as his spyglass drops from his hand and clatters noisily to the ground. "Swan," he breathes, and his blue eyes flash guiltily in the dimly lit alley behind Granny's diner.

He's an idiot, an absolute Goddamn idiot. Her brow quirks at him, watching him closely as he stoops to retrieve his spyglass and abruptly tuck it away into his coat. "Are you insane?" she wonders. "Do you know how cold it is out here?"

When he unbends and looks to her again, his face is carefully neutral. He studies her for a minute then he frowns, lips pressing together. "I've no clue what you mean."

_Oh._ So he wants to play _that _game. "I'm not blind, I can see you through the window. You've been standing out here for the last hour and a half-"

"What? Is there some sort of town _law_ that forbids a man to stand outside of a building? Perhaps I was merely in need of some fresh air."

His voice just _barely_ hints at defensiveness and Emma rolls her eyes at him. He looks defiant, grumpy, and a little niggle of annoyance shoots down her spine as she watches him across the space. She's not a moron, she knows _exactly_ what he's up to — watching over her, making sure she's safe, keeping a lookout for Zelena — and it frustrates her to no end because it's utterly _ridiculous_ what he's doing, how he blatantly disregards _his_ safety- and _his_ _own_ life and _ugh_, _idiot!_

Emma frowns, sighing exasperatedly as she closes the distance between them, shoving the steaming cup of hot chocolate into his hand. He looks startled, tired eyes — she can see just how tired now that she's standing so near — flickering back and forth between her face and the cup.

"What's this?" he wonders.

She tries not to snarl at him as she unwinds her scarf from where it's draped over her arm. "Hot cocoa," she mutters, reaching up to hang it around his neck.

He goes completely still as she begins wrapping it around him and she does her best to ignore the way he's looking at her — like she's the Goddamn _sun_, always the Goddamn sun — while she concentrates on the task at hand. She attempts to cover up as much of his stupidly exposed chest as possible — it's the middle of winter for God's sake — and sighs again while she backs away to examine her work.

If he's going to insist on being an uncompromising ass about the whole thing, he should at least stay warm and try to keep from getting sick. The last thing she needs to do is to worry about his immune system (_she worries enough about him as it is_, is the the thought that immediately follows, which she dutifully ignores), especially since she needs everyone operating at full strength if they've got a shot at beating the witch.

Her stomach clenches at the sight of him; of course he would look fantastic in red, _of course_. Her gaze is irritated when she glances back up at him, made worse by the softness around his eyes and the gentle smile curving up the corners of his lips as he studies her.

_Like the Goddamn sun_.

She presses her lips together — heart squeezing, chest _aching_ — while the pull to him manifests suddenly, backing the breath up into her lungs and making her retreat another step away. "Be careful," she tells him, and because she simply can't _handle _the absolute adoration and reverence in his expression, she turns away and heads back around towards the front entrance.

His eyes are on her back the entire way — warming her…twisting her stomach in knots…making her want things she knows she can't have. She makes it about halfway to the door before she curses under her breath and swivels to face him once more. She shoves her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket as she trudges back.

He looks confused, brow pinching while she approaches. "Swan?" he asks, in that lilting accent of his.

Her fingers itch with the desire to smooth away the lines on his forehead. "Have you…eaten yet?" She shuffles awkwardly from foot to foot, trying not to think too much about what the _hell_ she is doing.

Hook squints his eyes at her. "No," he says slowly.

There's no safer place for her than having him at her side. In the privacy of her mind, she can admit that there's no safer place for _him_ than at hers.

"Why don't…why don't you just come inside?" she asks, and she feels the heat creeping up her neck and into her cheeks.

His silence is deafening, lodging a little ball of anxiety just under her breastbone. The moment feels strangely monumental, significant somehow, and when his smile widens at her, making the dimples flash in his cheeks, she swallows thickly.

"Are you…are you sure?"

She rolls her eyes skyward. "You have to eat, don't you?"

He takes his cue from her, falling into step beside her when she turns away from his goofy grin. When they reach the door, he steps ahead of her, grasping the handle with his hook and beating her to it. She moves reflexively before he can open it, angling her body to face him then suddenly inhaling sharply. All thought slips from her mind when she realizes how close they are.

The heat builds between them, simmering and warm and golden and light, and as Emma stares into his too-handsome face, she has to fight against the urge to reach up and brush her thumb over the dark circles under his eyes. Her insides tighten, heart softening just a little more for him.

"Thanks," she tells him, before she can change her mind.

"Oh," he smiles softly, voice teasing as he starts to tug the door open for her. "You know me, love…always the gentlemen."

She exhales deeply, blocking him before he can pull any further. She averts her eyes and absentmindedly adjusts the scarf around his neck to cover up a spot she had missed of his chest from earlier.

"That's not what I meant," she murmurs, lifting her gaze to his.

He watches her for a few heartbeats and she sees the minute realization dawns on him by the cant of his head at her. His eyes move across her face and it's unnerving to be under such intense scrutiny, but pride won't allow her to retreat. He glances back over his shoulder at the spot they'd just walked from, where he'd been actively protecting her for the better part of two hours, and when he looks back at her, her heart slams up into her throat.

He's looking at her in just _that_ way again — the way that shortens her breath and tempts her with 'maybes' and reminds her how much he cares for her. It makes her ache, makes her want. She gives in, sighing as she leans her forehead against his chin and her hand curls around the charms on his necklace.

"Thank you," she repeats on a whisper.

"Of course," he replies, voice gruff and just a little strained. He doesn't move, simply lets her hang on for as long as she needs to.

Emma can't be sure how much time passes, but she doesn't look at him when she finally pulls away and recoils from his warmth, doesn't look at him as they enter the diner and make their way towards the back table where her parents and Henry are, and she certainly doesn't look at him when he slips into the chair beside her like he's been doing it forever.

She sips casually at her drink, ignoring her mother's watchful eyes on the scarf around Hook's neck and her quiet, knowing smile that follows, focusing instead on the chiming masculine laughter between Henry, Hook and David that fills the air and comforts her soul.

_Fin_


	28. He's A Pirate

**A/N:** THE ABC POSTER IS GIVING ME FEELS SO HERE HAVE THEM, I DON'T WANT THEM. (Pre-3.17 The Jolly Roger, completely speculative at the time. Posted to Tumblr April 13, 2014.)

* * *

**He's A Pirate**

He stares at her, eyes too blue and heart too open. "I'm a pirate and I always will be."

She thinks of the magical simulation Regina had put her through earlier, remembering the way her body had gasped and clenched when the knight who had aided her - whom she assumed had been her father - had slid the helmet from his head and revealed dark hair, sea-colored eyes and that infamous smirk.

It was the pirate who had turned his ship around to come back for her, it was the pirate who had taken her to Neverland to get Henry back, it was the pirate who saved her father's life, it was the pirate who had believed in her then promised her he'd think of her everyday. The pirate came to New York to restore her memories and bring her home (he was always coming back for her), the pirate stood at her side (as he always did) when things were hard, the pirate offered to take care of her son when he didn't have to, and it was the pirate who had given up _everything_ for _her_.

Her heart stutters in her chest as her gaze holds his, steady and sure.

Yes, he was a pirate, but he was also a knight - _her _knight, _her _savior - and when she moves for him, it is without a single bit of hesitation and sliver of doubt. When she wraps her arms around him and slides her mouth over his, it is with complete and utter certainty that he is hers and she is his and it will _always_ be this way.

She can feel the hesitation in his body, the shock holding him still for one second before a groan tears from his throat and his arms slip around her waist to drag her more fully against him. He kisses back with fever, over a year's worth of frustration and longing and _hope_ spewing out and seeping into her - lighting up the darkest parts of her and soothing over the scars in her heart.

This moments is precious, this moment is theirs, and whatever happens tomorrow, or in the coming days, she knows they'll always have _this, _they'll always have each other and this - _God_ - fairytale love that is ridiculous and consuming and all-encompassing but absolutely _perfect_ in its imperfection.

She pulls away, gasping for air, but stays close to rest her forehead against his (they have been without for long enough). "For the record? I like the pirate," she murmurs.

She feels his lips curve, clearly imagines the dimples in his cheeks deepening from the gesture, and then his mouth is on hers again - insistent, loving, _everything_.

_Fin_


	29. Babysitter's Club

**Prompt** by Tumblr user keepcalmwearetimeless: _**kk liz, i'm about to go so i'm just gonna leave it here. but you don't have to do it ;) Robin and Regina have a special night out and leave Roland to Hook, Emma and Henry. I needsss me some CS + Hook and Roland cuteness :D **_(Posted to Tumblr April 17, 2014.)

* * *

**Babysitter's Club**

She hears the laughter from the living room and it makes her smile as she puts the finishing touches on the hot cocoa. When she carries the tray in from the kitchen, Killian, Henry, and Roland are a tangled mess of limbs and bodies all wrestling on the floor, the little bandit hanging from Killian's back with his arms tight around his neck while Killian digs his fingers into Henry's ribs and makes him squeal and squirm.

"Do you concede?" He asks, grin making the dimples in his cheeks deepen and in turn making Emma's stomach flip.

"_Never!_" Henry replies.

"_Never!_" Roland echoes.

"_Never?_" Killian reaches back behind him, flipping Roland beside Henry and tickling him as well.

Henry take the opportunity to squirm away before launching his entire body at Killian and knocking him away from Roland. "_Mutiny!_" he cries.

Killian lands on the floor with a groan then grunts as Roland repeats after Henry and abruptly jumps onto him too. "Traitors!" Killian laughs. "The lot of you!"

Emma grins while she sets the drinks down. Fearsome pirate her ass. She's busy putting down coasters when the sound of quiet chuckling and soft murmurs makes the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. She lifts her gaze just in time to see three sets of eyes dancing mischievously at her.

Oh, _hell_ no.

"Attack!" Killian roars.

It's pure instinct that has her taking off back into the kitchen, her laughter and protests intermingling while adrenaline courses through her system. She puts the island between her and the two boys, hands up in a gesture of peace.

"Alright, let's think about this for a second-"

Henry cuts her off. "No where for you to go, Mom…you're out numbered!"

"Yeah!" Roland giggles, jumping up and down excitedly.

"Really guys?" Her eyes flicker towards the doorway and she wonders if she can make it through before they catch her. "I feed you dinner, I make you cocoa, I let you sword fight in the living room and _this _is how you-"

She screams when a pair of arms snake around her waist from behind and hoist her up off the ground. She kicks and flails and tries to squirm away, all the while Killian's mocking scream and the boys' triumphant cries resound around the room.

"No use fighting, lass," he laughs, carting her back towards the living room. "A pirate always gets his treasure."

The minute he deposits her unceremoniously onto the couch, Henry and Roland pounce on her and the tickle war resumes. She laughs so hard her stomach hurts and tears spring from her eyes. Every now and then she catches glimpses of Killian, brace on his waist as he sips idly at his cocoa, all smug and handsome while he oversees his crew of two.

"Does the lady concede?" he wonders a few agonizing moments later.

Four hands are hardly fair against two, so on a gasping breath of laughter she manages to choke out, "She concedes! She concedes!"

Henry collapses beside her, hands raised gleefully in the air. "_Victory!_"

Emma watches as Roland copies the gesture, wiping the tears from her face and trying to pull some air into her lungs.

"_Yessss!_" he grins. He turns that smile on her, dimples flashing, then crawls into her lap. "Cocoa?"

She tightens her arm around his waist as she snuggles him against her, stroking a finger over one of those charming little dents in his cheek. "Cocoa," she agrees.

"Can we watch a movie?" Henry asks, grabbing two mugs off the table and handing one to Roland.

"As long as it's not Peter Pan," Killian replies, brow quirked while he continues to work on his drink.

Henry snorts and rolls his eyes. "Come on Roland, let's go make some popcorn!"

"Don't set the kitchen on fire," Killian calls. "And if you make a mess, I'm not cleaning it!"

Emma chuckles, watching until the boys disappear through the doorway before she turns her face towards him. The way he's smirking makes her lips curve up wider. It doesn't surprise her when he sets his drink down then slides right on over to her, placing brace and hand on either side of her on the back of the sofa so he hovers above her.

"Alone at last," he murmurs.

She grins, all toothy and face-splitting, as one hand curls around the charms on his necklace to draw him down just a little closer. "So it would seem."

"And what are you going to do about it, hmm?" He leans down, bumps their noses together.

"I'm the conquest, pirate, so _conquer_."

His brow arches again. "Well, if the lady insists…"

His lips barely graze hers when Henry's voice wafts in, "Just because we can't see you doesn't mean we don't know what you're doing!"

"_Gross!_" Roland's little voice chimes in.

Emma laughs at Killian's exasperated sigh then tilts her head up to brush her mouth lightly over his. "Later?"

He kisses her once, a firm press of lips. "Later."

One movie, two bowls of popcorn, and an hour of clean-up duty later, Emma stands in the threshold of Henry's room, leaning against the doorframe and watching Killian read from Henry's storybook, despite the fact that both boys are already fast asleep. It's an image that tugs at her heart, that makes her think about things she never thought she'd ever be thinking about.

He glances up at her then — soft eyes and soft smile — and it hits her suddenly, how much she wants _this_. This simplicity and domesticity…all of the sweet little family moments — the laughter, the movie nights, the clean-up duty…a dark-haired, light-eyed little boy or girl running around (_Jesus, _she can't breathe). The warmth in her heart spreads through her and as he sits there simply watching her, she knows without a doubt that it's exactly what she wants.

Killian closes the book, setting it down on the nightstand before moving from his place between the boys. He shifts Henry further into the bed then tucks the blanket firmly around both of them before making his way towards her.

She lets him back her out into the hallway, smiling when his mouth abruptly closes over hers in a hungry kiss. She lets him take, allows herself to float on the giddy sensation of being kissed so wonderfully and thoroughly. Heat ignites along her skin when she feels his hand trail up her spine and she responds in turn, fingers twisting into his hair as she wraps herself around him.

Emma doesn't know how much time goes by, she never does, but she hardly minds, content just to have him with her — cherishing her, loving her with his mouth and the press of his body into hers. When he breaks the kiss, she keeps him close and rests her forehead against his.

"Been waiting to do that all night," he tells her.

"Me too," she chuckles.

He touches his lips to hers once more before pulling back to study her.

"What?" she asks, at his prolonged silence.

"There was a…_look_ that appeared on your face earlier. What were you thinking about?"

She sighs as she moves her hands down to his shoulders and arms, unable to keep the smile from her face. She wonders if she'd ever stop being an open book to him. She doesn't think so, but she doesn't mind that either.

"I just…" She takes a deep breath and tries to calm her rapidly beating heart. "I was thinking about…"

"Yes?" He implores, but by the wide smirk on his face he seems to already know _exactly_ what she was thinking about.

_Idiot_. Emma grins and shakes her head at him. "I'm not saying _today_, okay? Or _tomorrow_, or next year even…I'm just saying…_someday_."

The way his face lights up, the way his eyes fill with love and hope, makes Emma's heart squeeze sweetly in her chest.

"'Someday' sounds perfectly fine to me," he tells her, reaching up to thumb at the corner of her mouth while he gives her a _devastating_, heart-stopping smile.

Suddenly he moves, stooping to scoop her into his arms. Emma tries not to squeal, clutching her own arms around his neck. "What are you-"

Her words are cut off by the press of his mouth to hers — hot and desperate and demanding. She moans, angling her head to deepen the kiss. She doesn't even register that he's carried her into their room, simply gasps when he lets her go and she hits the bed with a dull _thud_ and bounces lightly.

"Killian-"

"A little practice doesn't hurt, love," he grins, settling his weight over her.

Emma's laugh dances over his lips as her hands find their way into his hair again. _Idiot_.

_Fin_


	30. Every Thought and Every Breath

**Prompt** by Anonymous: _**Emma kisses Hook and he cannot focus for the rest of the day**_

**A/N:** I don't know what's happening but I can't stop writing fluff *throws confetti* Post-TLK ;)) (Posted to Tumblr April 18, 2014.)

* * *

**Every Thought and Every Breath**

She'd kissed him. She'd actually kissed _him_. She'd made the choice, not to forfeit her magic, but to believe that True Love's Kiss was powerful enough to break the curse that witch had cast on him. And the most astounding, surprising, unexpected thing was that it _had_.

In a swirl of light and air and magic, Emma's powers had been stripped from her, leaving her breathless and wide-eyed as she stood clutching him. His heart had broken, apologies spilling from his lips as his hand cupped her cheek and he stared at her with remorseful eyes, but she didn't reply, simply watched him and waited. Then it happened abruptly — the rush of wind, the bright, blinding aura that encased her entire being, and the sudden burst of magic that exploded out of her and washed over him.

It stole the breath from him and the next one he took was absolutely _stunning —_ beautiful and overwhelming and healing and _Emma_. The storm that had been raging inside of him since her departure at the town line was soothed by the gentle ebb and flow of her light as it illuminated every shadowy, darkened part of his tortured and broken soul, and as he stood there with widened, confused eyes, the only thing he could say was her name.

"Swan," he'd breathed. "_Emma._"

Then she'd smiled at him, a heart-stopping, devastating smile _at him_ before launching herself into his arms and crushing her mouth to his again. He remembers feeling the magic pulsating from her, remembers the warm press of her lips against his and the way her fingers tangled into his hair. He recalls the feel of her wrapped in his arms, the groan that tears itself from his throat when she changes the angle to deepen the kiss, and sparks along her skin when he raised his hand to trace his fingertips along her jaw. She'd done it, she'd broken the curse.

_True Love's Kiss_. His heart clutches in his chest just thinking about it, head shaking in disbelief at such a wonder as Emma Swan _loving him back_. _He_ was _her_ True Love, she _loved_ him. _Gods above._

A hand waves in front of his face, startling him from his thoughts and making heat crawl up into his cheeks. He shifts uncomfortably at Robin's smirk and raised eyebrow.

"Ah, so someone _is_ home," he grins. "You going to be daydreaming all day, Captain, or will you actually be of any use to me?"

Killian blinks, trying to process his words and Robin chuckles.

"I know I'm hardly as attractive as the lady Swan, but perhaps you could focus long enough to help clean up this section of the town?" He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. "I'll return you to your dearest, _truest love_ in no time, mate."

"Oh, bugger off you sodding prat," he says with a roll of his eyes and a hearty shove that only makes Robin laugh harder. "Tis a pain in the arse, you are."

"Tis a smitten Captain you are, pirate," he calls cheerfully over his shoulder.

Killian's face burns with heat, but after a few moments, he can't find the strength to care. The warmth in his heart is too strong, too amazing to be overshadowed by the bandit's incessant teasing. The woman he loves, loves him back — the smile practically splits his face.

* * *

He can't stop thinking about her, about the way the sunshine reflects off her hair like a golden halo, about the way she moves as graceful as her namesake, about the way her green eyes light up when-

"You gonna eat that or am I gonna have to feed you?" Granny's voice breaks through his musings and he jumps in his seat when he realizes how…_closely_ she's leaning over the counter and how mischievous her eyes look as they take in his face and trail down the rest of him.

His brow quirks and the corners of his mouth tug up as he leans forward, closing the distance between them just a little more before offering his fork to her and giving her a challenging look — two could play that game.

Granny snorts, snatching the fork from him and cutting a bit of the lasagna on his plate. She scoops some up and raises it for him, just in front of his lips. He watches her as he opens his mouth and closes it around the fork before pulling away and taking the food with him.

He chews thoughtfully as their gazes hold intensely. "Beats the lunch special."

Granny gives a hoot of laughter, slamming her hand on the counter. "It's about time the Sheriff got some sense knocked into her and snatched you up." She pats his cheek affectionately, almost like a grandmother would, and his heart squeezes. "You be good to her, hmm? And you make her smile as often as you can, Lord knows that child needs it."

She gives him a wink and bustles off to check on the other customers, leaving him to his thoughts and the grin on his face. Emma's dimpled smile flashes into his mind and his chest tightens again. He has every intention of doing just that for the rest of his life.

* * *

By 5:00 PM Killian is pacing restlessly in Snow's kitchen, grumbling to himself and moody. He hasn't seen Emma all day, not one glimpse of her siren's eyes and sunshine hair and _where the bloody hell is she_? Snow chuckles but he's too distracted to notice, let alone care.

"Can you hand me that blanket over there?" She gestures towards the chair across the room where it's draped.

He stops long enough to send her a scowl. "What?"

"She's fine, you know," Snow replies, smoothing her hand over her stomach.

"What? Who?" He already knows _who_.

"Emma," she smiles knowingly. "You…love her so much…I didn't realize-"

He cuts her off with a shake of his head and reaches for the blanket, pausing when he notices her name stitched into one corner. He thumbs at the soft yarn of her baby blanket, smile soft as he traces over the familiar name with his fingertips.

"So do you," he murmurs.

When he turns back to her, her expression is gentle, significant, and he feels like he _finally_ understands her, like they've finally reached some common ground.

"I'll love her for a lifetime," he promises, draping the blanket over her lap and kneeling down so he's at eye-level with her. "Perhaps even well beyond that."

Snow eyes grow watery with unshed tears as she cups his cheek in her hand. "Good," she whispers.

* * *

He's just about to send a damned armada out looking for her by the time the evening rolls in and there's still no sign of her. He's finally given up on decorum, grabbing his coat and slipping it on before heading for the door — he'll just go find her himself, it's what he does best after all (bloody family motto).

He jerks the handle and nearly mows her over, making her jump and smile sheepishly.

"Jesus, you scared me," she tells him.

His body stills and his eyes simply _feast_ on her — she's as beautiful, as lovely, as stunning as she's always been, and he realizes that he's never stood a chance against falling in love with her.

"I'm sorry, it's been kind of crazy today and-"

Killian doesn't allow her to continue, simply fists the front of her shirt in his hand and tugs her forward so his mouth can close over hers. He swallows her surprised gasp, arm sliding around her waist as he draws her further into the room and kicks the door shut behind her. He traps her against it, body pressing into hers while his lips coax hers open so his tongue can dip inside. She moans at the scrape of his teeth against her bottom lip — her hands gripping at the collar of his coat, pulling him closer, refusing to let him go and his heart soars.

It's never been this way, he's never initiated physical contact before, has always allowed her to choose, but now that he has, he knows it's another thing that will change between them. He _loves_ her, has been waiting to love _her_ for over 300 years and the need to _show_ her flows fiercely through his body. He will show her day after day into their happily ever after.

Killian gives…gives and gives and _gives_ until they're both panting for air and shaking with need. When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against hers and makes her chuckle lightly.

"You miss me or something?" she asks.

"No, not at all," he replies.

Emma tugs playfully at his hair. "Me neither."

He smiles against her mouth, enjoying the way she sighs and how the silence that fills up the space is comfortable and warm.

"So I suppose this is it, huh?" she asks quietly, pointedly.

He bumps his nose against hers affectionately. "So it would seem."

Emma doesn't respond, just nods her head and grins as she closes the distance between them and kisses him again, drawing him into her light and love and sweetly welcoming him home.

_Fin_


	31. Easter

**Prompt** by Anonymous: _**Could you write some cs Easter fluff please?**_

**A/N:** Happy Easter and Happy Once Day *throws confetti* (Posted to Tumblr April 20, 2014.)

* * *

"Remind me why we're doing this again?" he asks, brow furrowing as he watches Henry and Roland and her toddler sibling search the park for colored eggs.

"It's a tradition we do here," she replies, lacing their fingers together while she settles in beside him and eyes Henry as he darts off towards the bushes by the swings. Their wedding rings brush together, still so new but so, _so_ right, and her chest tightens sweetly. "We missed it last year with…well, you know, saving the world and all that, but anything that involves candy, Henry _loves_ so it's just one of the many holidays we celebrate."

She glances at him briefly, sees the way he looks at her- _their_ son (her heart squeezes again), the way his face softens and his mouth curves up, and she feels warmth swell in her chest. She'll never get over that, his obvious affection and love for him — it's endearing and amazing and everything she could have hoped for, to have such a wonderful, attentive, caring father-figure for her son.

He turns his attention to her then, fingers tightening on hers and she can't stop the smile that curves up her lips — oh yes, and a sexy, dashing, loving _husband_ for _her _(she's not swooning, she swears).

"What?" he asks, though his eyes are alight, playful and knowing.

Emma shakes her head and gives his hand a little tug. "Come on, let's see if we can find one."

He obliges, following her lead as she keeps her eyes open for a bright contrast of color in the greenery surrounding them. As they walk in comfortable silence, she can't help but feel incredibly at _peace_ and…_domesticated _today.

That morning they'd woken up with the dawn, eager hands and lips and bodies seeking each other's blissful warmth and in the afterglow that followed, all there had been was his hand combing through her hair and her fingertips tracing over his heart. Hours later, Henry had woken them in excitement, jumping on their bed and yelling at them to hurry up and get up.

They'd stolen a few kisses while they'd gotten ready, stolen a few more before meeting everyone else for brunch where he'd caressed her knee beneath the table and she had to grasp his hand to keep it from wandering _too freely_. They'd shared a look when she did — his challenging, hers amused though near-murderous — and he'd simply brought her hand up to kiss sweetly at her knuckles. The gesture placated her, lit her up from the inside and made her heart squeeze — she'd grinned like an idiot at him, stupid pirate.

After cheerful conversation and an endless amount of laughter, they'd all gone outside to head for the park where the children could hunt for eggs. She'd hip-checked him on the way before he slipped his arm across her shoulders, then Henry had come by, squeezing between them and making them laugh while he told _awful_ Easter jokes that Killian didn't really understand but chuckled over anyway because _they_ were laughing. It was a beautiful day and there was still so much of it left.

"Love," he says, stopping in his tracks and pulling her from her thoughts.

"Hmm?"

He gestures with his hook, pointing at a bush a few feet away, and when she still doesn't see it, he slides right up to her, chest pressing into her side, mouth hovering near her ear, and guides her vision to a bright pop of pink. "Right….there," he breathes quietly.

Emma doesn't even try to hide the shiver that races down her spine — the delicious heat of him combined with the overwhelming scent of sea and leather and _Killian_ that comes with his nearness, is far too intoxicating for her to care. He chuckles softly — he knows her too well, damn it — then places a kiss against her temple.

"Are we searching for eggs or are we standing here all day?" he murmurs, lips brushing against her brow, her cheek.

She grins, angling her body towards him and meeting his blue eyes. When he's looking at her like _that_, it's a tough call to make.

"We're standing here long enough until you kiss me."

The corners of his eyes crinkle with his smile. "Oh, is that right?"

"Mmhmm," she affirms, tilting her chin up and offering her mouth to his, knowing he won't be able to resist.

He doesn't, and wastes no time closing his mouth over hers in a gentle meeting of lips. She sighs at the contact and inches closer to him. The pull to him is magnetic, as it always is, and the way they just _fit_ is perfection in its purest form. If Emma could bottle up moments like these to keep them forever, she'd do it in a heartbeat, instead, she tucks them away into her heart and thinks that will do just fine.

He kisses her lazily, as if they have all the time in the world. There's no searing heat or fervent moving of mouths, just the light press and retreat of lips like the ebbing of the tide, but the underlying meaning is still there.

_I want you._

_Glad you're here._

_I love you._

_Glad you're mine._

By the time he eases away, Emma's too giddy and lightheaded to care. He laughs again, soft and deep in his throat, then bumps his nose affectionately with hers. He says something but she glosses right over it.

"What?"

"Pay attention, darling," he teases, then solves the matter by leading her towards the egg he had spotted. Once they stand in front of it, he looks at her expectantly. "Now what?"

Brain functioning close to normal again, Emma grasps it with her fingers and holds it in her palm in front of them. "Now…we open it."

She releases his hand and smiles as she pops open the egg. There's a little yellow Peep inside and she chuckles at the look on Killian's face.

"That looks like…a chick covered in Pixie Dust."

"Something like that," she replies. "Except it's edible and much sweeter." She pulls it from the casing, biting off a piece before holding it up for him to do the same (and rolling her eyes when he gives her a skeptical look and refuses to). "You'll like it, I promise. It's like…eating a cloud."

He scrunches his nose at her. "You told me I'd like brussel sprouts as well."

Her laugh is full-bodied and loud. "Okay, that time I lied. Nobody actually likes brussel sprouts." She inches the treat closer to his mouth, eyes dancing across his lips before lifting back to his. Her brow arches challengingly at him. "Come on, stop being a pansy."

His forehead furrows, eyes narrowing at her as his lips purse in an almost pout. He grumbles under his breath but does as she asks and takes a little nibble off the Peep. He chews thoughtfully and she can't keep her gaze from his mouth when his tongue flicks out to lick some sugar from his lips.

"Well? What's the verdict?" she asks, having another bite.

"Well," drawls, arms snaking around her waist to draw her to him. "It's like eating a cloud…except not nearly as sweet as _you_."

Emma rolls her eyes and grins at the smirk on his face — that stupid, ridiculous smirk that makes his already too-handsome face far more attractive — and pops the rest of the favored Easter delight into his mouth as she settles into his arms.

"I wouldn't say I'm sweet."

"No? I would," he answers, lowering his head towards her.

The urge to lick the sugar crystals from his lips becomes something _fierce_ and it takes Emma about half a heartbeat before she's crushing her mouth to his and swiping her tongue across his bottom lip. She has denied herself for _so long_ where he's concerned, and the time for that is long passed so she kisses him as she once longed to, with reckless abandon and desperation and so much _love_ that it fills her heart to the brim and spills over into him.

"_Candy! This is so awesome!_" Henry screams as he races by and interrupts their moment. "_Best day EVER!"_

She laughs against Killian's mouth, breaking the kiss and snuggling into his chest as she rests her cheek against his shoulder. He holds her tightly while they watch Henry's antics and she feels so _ridiculously_ happy — happier than any one person should be allowed to feel — and when he presses his lips to her forehead, she feels cherished, home, and _loved_ in return.

"I love you, Killian," she tells him quietly.

"I love you, too," he replies. "I love you _both_," he amends. "My wee pirate family."

"Oh, we're _pirates_ now, are we?" she chuckles.

"Always told you that you'd make a hell of a pirate…besides, Henry and I decided. Two against one, love, you're outnumbered."

She's silent for a moment, heart stuttering then clutching in her chest as her hand closes over the charms on his necklace. She hadn't intended to tell him, not today, but…

"Well, it might be three soon."

He stills beneath her, she actually hears the catch in his breath before he pulls away to look at her. "What?" his voice is barely above whisper.

"Yeah," she scrunches her nose at him. "Like…nine months soon."

"You-"

"It's not 100% sure but-"

"We're-"

"I think so," she laughs. "Surprise? Happy Easter? I mean…I still need to take a test but I'm late and…I don't know, I feel like…I just…_know_ but I know we haven't even talked about it in detail and-"

The rest of her words are cut off by his mouth on hers and his arms lifting her off the ground to spin her around. Her arms tighten around his neck and she can't stop chuckling into his mouth. Warmth and light surge through her and she feels like she's actually _glowing_ from the inside out.

"_Best." _Kiss_. "Day." _Kiss_. "Ever!" _Kiss.

He echoes Henry's sentiments as he finally sets her down. She moves her hands to cup at his face while he keeps her in close so their stomaches touch, and the joy and excitement and — oh _God_ — _love_ that she sees there is enough to bring tears to her eyes.

"I love you," she murmurs again before drawing his mouth back down to hers.

_Fin_


End file.
